


La Rose Cachée

by mugglerock



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Don't judge a book by its cover, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Gaston is Closeted, LeFou is Snarky and Delightful, Love Triangles, M/M, Picks Up Where the Movie Left Off, Redemption, Romance, Secret Crush, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Spoilers, True Love, Twist on a Classic Fairy Tale, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2018-10-11 00:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10450602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugglerock/pseuds/mugglerock
Summary: How it was possible for anyone to love a man like Gaston, Agathe would never understand. But in a mournful outcry, this ardent affection was enough reason to convince her to grant Gaston a second chance. Now he has but a fortnight to learn the identity of whomever found it within themselves to love Gaston, and genuinely return said affection, else he will be returned to the veil.Gaston’s death was not the end of his story, but rather the beginning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I have to thank my amazing unicorn [anyrei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anyrei/pseuds/anyrei) for not only beta-ing this story, but for creating the GORGEOUS coverart for it as well. I love you a Misha, Cas, Charlie, and Felicia! <3!
> 
> This is a canon-compliant redemption fic, because after seeing the movie (four times and counting) I couldn't stop myself to be perfectly frank. And because I saw parallels between Gaston and Beast, I wanted to essentially recreate that arc. This is a dreaded WiP and I cannot guarantee consistent uploads of the chapters. Any and I are working on multiple projects that will require our attention. But it is plotted out and I will finish it.

Agathe had never expected the Prince to succeed. Not that she gave these cruel and arrogant men the sorts of bewitched trials in order for them to fail. She never wanted a single one of them to fail. But in her five hundred years of life, not a single one _had_ succeeded.

 

With every trial and failure, she had grown more and more resigned to making generalizations and assumptions about certain types of men. The sort of man who encompassed an air of charisma, all the while having boorish and almost fiendish qualities. Their vanity a mask for a deep-seeded uncertainty.

 

Like that of her husband, many many years ago. A man for whom she not only loved, but would have died for… she almost did. If it hadn’t been for that faerie...

 

While the townsfolk were celebrating their reunion with their once forgotten loved ones, Agathe had snuck away, invisible in the thrushes of persons colliding in appreciative embraces. It was in the shade and hidden corner of the garden where she found Gaston. She knelt beside the body of the arrogant and terribly misguided man.

 

Despite a blanket of snow covering the grounds before the spell was broken, it was not enough to cushion a half a kilometer fall. Gaston was dead, the crude angle of his neck from a _clearly_ severed cervical spine was likely the cause of his death. Agathe clicked her tongue and sighed. _Perhaps it was a quick death._ She thought ruefully.

 

That was when a panicked concern filled her mindseye. Not her own, no, but that of a villager, drawing closer to their location. Agathe closed her eyes and focused on the internal voice. With her concentration, she was unsurprised to discover it was LeFou. Simple, bumbling, long-suffering LeFou.

 

She could feel his longing, yet tortured displeasure over such an emotion in his fruitless search for Gaston. Agathe had always presumed their relationship was one of imbalance, born out of some semblance of idolization on the younger man’s part. Yet the third-party emotions that were presently overwhelming her were anything but. The word genuine came to mind; LeFou’s concern was utterly genuine, despite a simmering of anger just below the surface.

 

Agathe immediately stood and regarded the body once more, her brow quirked incredulously. “How you managed to gain the profound love of _any_ person is beyond me…” she chastised, turning to look around for any witnesses. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Agathe murmured a spell and with a wave of her hand, the body of Gaston disappeared.

 

Needing the time to contemplate her next course of action, Agathe slowly made the long trek to her isolated den hidden in the woods on the outskirts of their village. It gave her the time she needed to excogitate. While her faith in men like Gaston was cursory, the prince had ultimately surprised her in the end. Would it really be fair to not extend the same sort of opportunity to another such man?

 

* * *

 

Agathe sat on a stump, that often doubled as a chair, and scratched her chin as she observed the unmoving body of Gaston, laid out on her handmade cot. The sort of magic required to resurrect someone from the dead, who wasn’t under an enchantment already, was often the type that required a profound personal exchange. She wasn’t all that certain Gaston was the type of man who could make a sacrifice like that worth it.

 

There was one spell though, a temporary one. A personal sacrifice would be unnecessary if he were unsuccessful and she would be without the guilt that was presently plaguing her. Agathe had given the Prince a chance and had surprisingly succeeded. But Gaston’s situation was also remarkably different. He already garnered the genuine and unyielding love of another. Gaston’s problem, narcissism and arrogance aside, was his inability to care for anyone more than himself.

 

Agathe rifled through her bookshelf, handcarved from the beech trees of the northern part of their country, and found her spell book. Finding the enchantment she intended to use, she returned to her stump and contemplated her decision again. If she hadn’t felt another wave of concern from LeFou, there was a good to fair chance she would have merely delivered his body to the village in order to be given a proper burial.

 

Moving to kneel beside the body, she carefully adjusted his head to straighten the distorted angle of his broken neck. The sickening crack that accompanied the adjustment would make a weaker person cringe. With a deep sigh, she hovered her hand over the man’s chest cavity, where his physical heart lay.

 

 _“_ _Quoniam tu es, qui cubat in saxo et fictilibus, et videte quod dico, surge, et obedire, ad Iter per ostium mortale, iterum conveniunt et carnem ambulant,”_ Agathe chanted in Latin, imploring the spirit of Gaston to return to his body as she used her magic to heal his fatal injuries.

 

As the man’s injuries began to fade like forgotten memories, marred and cold skin regaining its color and strength, blood and bruises dissipating as his lungs began to fill with air, Agathe whispered against the shimmering light emanating from the body, “Awaken, Gaston.”

 

With a startled gasp, the man sat upright, eyes blinking rapidly as he soaked in his surroundings, grasping at his heart. When Gaston’s gaze appeared to focus on her, he shook his head in bemusement. “Agathe?”

 

With an arched brow, she merely responded with a rather curt, “Welcome back.”

 

“Back?” Gaston narrowed his eyes, his rich baritone never once faltering as he prodded further, “Back from where?”

 

Without so much a glance, she answered in a calm and almost bored tone, “From the dead.”

 

His eyes grew wide, an insecure and frightened expression she had never once seen upon the man’s visage in all her years of knowing him. Gaston’s brow furrowed in thought, as though trying to recall the circumstances surrounding his death. A little breathlessly he finally responded, “The bridge parapet I was on crumbled. I fell to my death…” It wasn’t a question, so much an outspoken realization. He regarded her curiously. “Did you save me, Agathe?”

 

“Yes. With the same ‘dark’ magic you so readily led the entire town to vanquish in your ignorant and hate-filled rage,” Agathe snipped, arms folded over her chest to exert her position of power in their situation.

 

Gaston nodded slowly, appearing contemplative for a moment before asking, “And what of the beast?”

 

She quirked her brow. “Despite your desire to do him harm, ‘twas love that saved him in the end.”

 

Agathe had anticipated a plethora of different responses from the arrogant man, but a slumping of his shoulders as he let out a sorrowful sigh was not among them. Gaston took a deep breath and nodded dumbly. A beat of awkward silence passed between them and he finally shifted on the cot, voice barely above a whisper as he asked, “Did… Is LeFou alright?”

 

That took her aback. Perhaps her decision to give this man a second chance wasn’t a misstep after all. Agathe nodded slowly, eyeing the man with curiosity. “Everyone got out of the siege relatively unscathed.”

 

He scoffed. “I couldn’t give a damn about everyone else.”

 

And there was the arrogance she had come to expect from the man before her. Agathe let out a long-suffering sigh and steadied her gaze on him. “Gaston, you must understand that your return to this plane is not a gift… It’s a test. Of which, should you fail, you will return from whence you came.”

 

Gaston quirked his brow, slowly his haughty mannerisms returning to him, and asked, “And what is this so-called test?”

 

Agathe moved to sit on the stump beside him, using the time to form a response that would be understood. “There is reciprocity required of this sort of magic. I brought you back because, no matter your abysmal treatment of my person and many others, even brutes such as yourself should be given at least one more chance to make things right.”

 

“And how am I to do that?” The tone of his question was tired and it would have been masked by his sheer insolence to the ears of any normal mortal. Agathe was neither.

 

“Your circumstance is not unlike that of the Prince’s. Yet, entirely unlike his. His arrogance and narcissism assured a lack of true affection for him. You, on the other hand, are a different story…”

 

Gaston narrowed his eyes, brow furrowed in bemusement. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“You are a cruel, unloving, selfish, and scornful man. Comprised of a narcissistic and emotionally stunted wall, borne out of an insecurity within yourself, making it almost impossible for you to love anyone but yourself. But I don’t honestly believe you _do_ love yourself... And while lust is entirely expected when regarding your physical person. Love, genuine and ardent affection, should have been out of your reach.” Agathe chuckled mirthlessly before she continued, “Honestly, the only reason I am giving you this chance is because somehow, someway… someone was able to love you.”

 

Gaston regarded her with a look of bemused uncertainty. As though he both believed and disbelieved her claims, but was reticent to voice said concern because she _did_ just bring him back to life, after all.

 

Agathe waved her hand, murmuring a spell as the shirt upon Gaston’s person ruffled with the words. She drew back and regarded him as he ripped the garment open, revealing a faded tattoo upon the left side of his chest. A rose had become symbolic of her spellwork. It was only fitting. “You have a fortnight, Gaston. Every day a petal will fall and wither away and should you not succeed, you will die with the wilted flower.”

 

“A fortnight to do _what,_ exactly?” Even with the prospect of death nigh, the man still assumed a mask of bravado, but Agathe could hear the way his heartbeat quickened in fear.

 

“Learn to love someone more than yourself. But not just any person. The person for whom loves you above all others. Once you do, that love will soften your heart and eliminate the hatred that ultimately led to your fall. But that, of course, is _if_ you are able to look within yourself and accept a truth you have far long denied.”

 

Gaston folded his arms against his chest, his posture indicating an innate habit of guarding himself. “And are you going to tell me who this woman is?”

 

Agathe’s lips curled up in an amused smile. “This _person…”_ she emphasized, “you should know. Just reflect on your life. Find that one person who created a calm in you unlike any other, a calm in the storm of conflict in your heart.” With that she moved to approach Gaston, standing over him. “You will awaken in your room, I suggest you do not waste your time.”

 

With a snap of her fingers, the man disappeared. She could only hope this was not a terrible mistake.

 

* * *

 

When Gaston awoke in his sparsely decorated room at the lodge, he tried to shake himself of the remnants of a terrible dream. Shaking the blanket from his feet, he jumped up, heading straight for his washing basin to splash the now cold water over his face.

 

The dream had been so vivid, he could have sworn that real time had passed. To such an extent, he wasn’t entirely certain what day it was. Gaston grabbed more appropriate garments and dressed hastily, pulling his vest and trousers up over his night clothes, yanking on his boots as he practically hopped down the stairs. He rushed past the housemaid, in far too much of a hurry to even contemplate tossing an apology in her direction.

 

As Gaston reached the main sitting room, one thought stayed in mind as he slammed the door open. He needed to find LeFou. If anyone would be able to aid his confusion without judgement or snide remarks, it would be his oldest and dearest friend.

 

Gaston was surprised to find the sun setting, dusk arriving upon them in quick fashion. He must have slept for longer than he realized.

 

LeFou lived with an aunt, or was it an uncle? Some distant relative that had a quaint home on the edge of town. He had lived with them since his arrival to Villeneuve all of those years ago.

 

Darting around a lamp lighter, barely avoiding the man or his bucket, Gaston walked at a hastened pace to his friend’s home. Running would have incited question, but fast walking would hopefully deter any other villagers from attempting to engage him.

 

Reaching the home in just under a few minutes, Gaston pounded on the door. Loud enough to quiet the way his heart beat against his chest, feeling more and more on edge with every second that ticked by and the door wasn’t opened.

 

Preparing to knock again, the door was yanked open. LeFou scrubbed a hand over his face in annoyance as he barked, “What?” before turning to look up. Once their eyes locked, his friend’s face grew pale, hand trembling against the handle.

  
Before Gaston could respond, LeFou let out a shaky exhale, taking a tentative step back. “Gaston… you’re alive?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of Latin spell: For thou who sleeps in stone and clay, heed this call, rise up and obey, trek on through the Mortal door, assemble flesh and walk once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a huge squishy thank you to [anyrei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anyrei/pseuds/anyrei), my beautiful unicorn and beta! Again, forewarning, while the fic is plotted out, we're participating in a couple of BigBangs that require our attention; so updates may be sporadic. Thank you so much for all of the lovely comments and I hope you enjoy the direction I continue to take this.

LeFou was surrounded by joyful reunions and tearful pleas for forgiveness. His heart ached with the desire for a similar reconciliation of his own, but as he searched the crowds of people rushing each other in gratitude, a familiar red coat and hulking demeanor was nowhere to be found.

 

As hurt as he was by the way Gaston treated him, as haunted as he was by the sheer monstrous behavior that twisted his friend into a mockery of the man he had grown to love over their many years as compatriots, he still felt concern for him. Despite his namesake, LeFou was not a fool. Unfortunately, like many before him, love had blinded him to the severity of the situation. And still, through it all, his heart still ached for what became of his friend.

 

Just as he was about to give up his search, Belle sought him out. She regarded him with a kind smile, one he didn’t feel he was deserving of. “Monsieur LeFou, may I speak with you?”

 

With a small nod, he moved to a secluded corner of the entryway garden, granting her privacy as much as himself. Unable to hold back, he blurted, “Please forgive me for the part I played in the treatment of your father.”

 

Belle waved him off. “You were the only one who tried to reason with Gaston. I…” She appeared reticent, folding her hands over her lap as she took a seat on a white marble bench. Finally, with an air of regret, she continued, “I wanted you to know what happened.”

 

LeFou moved to sit beside her, concern lacing his tone as he asked, “What?”

 

“Gaston, he–he was standing upon one of the stone parapet bridges when that part of the castle began to crumble…” Belle apparently had difficulty saying the words out loud, despite her dislike of Gaston.

 

There were a million emotions fluttering through him at the news. He nodded to her in acknowledgement and understanding. With a gentle pat upon his shoulder, she bid him adieu with another kind smile.

 

For a few moments he was unable to move. Of all of the outcomes for his friend, LeFou had not anticipated death to be among them. Their last exchange was their _last exchange._ He would never see nor speak to the man who had been a fundamental part of his existence for the better part of his life. That was not an easy truth to endure.

 

LeFou found himself in an almost trance like state as he slowly stood up and made his way to Wilfred, his reliable and trusty steed. Gaston’s horse was still tied up beside his own. With a heavy hearted sigh, LeFou untied Hercules and with rope in hand, mounted Wilfred as he began their journey back to the village. LeFou wondered if Hercules knew his master would not return, he seemed almost docile as he was led on.

 

The sound of hooves beating against hardened ground as he made his way back to Villeneuve were almost enough to distract him from his thoughts. _Almost_ was the operative word.

 

How was he supposed to feel? With how they parted, the last words exchanged between them, LeFou felt almost bitter at not having said something back, to have allowed his hurt to silence him. And then a profound guilt would wash over him as he chastised himself for being unkind to the dead. Followed by a deep sadness, an ache in his heart from where it was cracked. Cracked because of, by, and for Gaston.

 

He managed to keep his wits about him, not wanting to cry over a man who turned out so unfailingly cruel in the end, and wanting to cry for all that he lost. A most dearest friend, a companion, a man he had loved not in spite of his faults, but for them.

 

After settling Wilfred and Hercules into the stable, he thanked a God – who saw him as an abomination – for the house being empty and quiet. LeFou made his way to the sitting area. After starting a fire, he found a bottle of wine of his aunt’s and yanked the cork out with his teeth. He needed to numb the pain, to numb all of his feelings.

 

He was halfway through the bottle when a thunderous knock shook him from his stupor. LeFou grumbled and muttered as he stumbled to stand, slowly making his way to the door.

 

Yanking it open, LeFou scrubbed his free hand over his face, letting out an annoyed, “What?” When he turned to look up, he swore he was looking at a ghost. Gaston _couldn’t_ be standing in front of him, Belle wouldn’t have lied.

 

Letting out a shaky exhale, LeFou took a tentative step back and breathed out, “Gaston… you’re alive?

 

Gaston appeared taken aback, his features worried and regretful. “It wasn’t a dream then.”

 

LeFou felt frozen in place, unable to move, as he just stared, mouth agape and heart racing.

 

Gaston appeared to get impatient at LeFou’s lack of movement. “Are you going to invite me in?”

 

It was tempting to slam the door in his face, abandoning him much the way he had abandoned LeFou earlier in his endeavor to kill the beast. Tempting, but completely uncharacteristic. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, he opened the door a little wider and stepped aside to allow the man entrance.

 

Despite his silent invitation, he was not wanting or ready for a conversation. LeFou busied himself as a means of distraction, grabbing the kettle and settling it over the hearth. Purposely avoiding looking at the man who, until a few minutes ago, he had been mourning the death of.

 

Gaston made himself comfortable on a lush cushioned chair LeFou’s aunt had commissioned when she last visited Paris. He crossed his leg over his knee and leaned forward. LeFou ignored the burning at the back of his neck, feeling the way Gaston was watching his every movement. Content to stay silent, LeFou continued to find small ways to occupy his hands. Grabbing a couple of mugs from his aunt’s cupboards, stoking the fire...

 

It was Gaston who shattered the silence between them, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

 

LeFou whipped around, a shock coursed through him reminiscent of a strike of lightening. “You are?” His tone clearly demonstrating his utter disbelief of such a statement, especially out of the mouth of Gaston.

 

The man sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face before locking eyes with LeFou. “I know our last encounter was less than friendly…”

 

He scoffed, his bearings finally found as he regarded Gaston with a skeptically quirked brow. “Less than friendly?” LeFou asked, tone incredulous. “You used me as a human shield and when I implored your help, you abandoned me. You used me as a means to an end. And what’s worse, you led the entire village on a murderous siege from what equates to essentially a temper tantrum! And for what?”

 

While he had had his disagreements with Gaston in the past, had even attempted to talk him out of some of his more horrendous actions (usually to no avail), he had never outright yelled at Gaston. Many assumed over the years his accommodating of Gaston was stemmed from something akin to fear, but it was quite the opposite. It stemmed from a love he had for his companion. A cruelty of fate, the only person for whom he had romantic affection not only being a man, but this particular man… Cruel was an understatement.

 

LeFou readied himself for an irate and thunderous response, he had never stood up to Gaston in such a manner before and considering his meak attempts in the past had garnered vicious retaliation, he could only imagine what this would incite.

 

He hadn’t been anticipating an almost regretful wince at his outburst. Instead of making LeFou calm, that reaction put his guard up even higher.

 

Gaston breathed out a sigh and moved to stand, slowly approaching LeFou. This must be it, Gaston was going to strike back violently. Stopping short of half a yard between them, Gaston placed his hands on the table across from LeFou and stared at him. After a beat he finally responded, “You’re right, LeFou.”

 

Clearly, LeFou had awoken in a parallel dimension, possibly he had died from being crushed by the harpsichord. Or perhaps this was the devil’s work. Gaston was meant to have died. Taking a step back he eyed his friend suspiciously. “I don’t understand. What happened to you, Gaston?”

 

“You’d be surprised how much experiencing your own death can put certain things in perspective,” he answered simply. Casually mentioning his death as though he were remarking on the weather.

 

LeFou shrugged, he couldn’t argue with him, he had no basis for it. “So, you _did_ die?”

 

Gaston nodded. “I had hoped it was all a terrible dream, but I am not so fortunate. I have been given a second chance, but it comes with a proviso…”

 

Moving to sit on the settee, Gaston followed and returned to the cushioned chair. LeFou tugged on the ends of his hair, still pulled back with a ribbon, twisting his fingers in the tail in a nervous habit he had never outgrown from childhood. “Proviso?” he asked without looking up from the point on the dusty floor that held his gaze.

 

“The same magic that bewitched the castle was used to bring me back from death. But I have to accomplish a task within a fortnight or I shall return.”

 

Easily, without question, he found himself readily engaged in Gaston’s plight. And once again, Gaston came before his own feelings. LeFou tried to not think about how pathetic that was. “What is your task?”

 

For the first time that evening, Gaston appeared angry. He scoffed and shook his head. “I have caught the genuine attention and affection of someone unknown to me and I am to learn of her affection and learn to return it within a fortnight otherwise…” He slid his index finger across his throat, a gruesome nonverbal indicator of his fate.

 

LeFou bit his bottom lip, unsure of how to respond. It couldn’t be so simple, could it? As he thought back over the years he had known Gaston, he tried to recall how often he’d seen the man infatuated with a woman.

 

They met as children. Gaston taking to LeFou, despite his being a target of infantile ridicule for his appearance, or worse yet his slightly effeminate mannerisms, had solidified Gaston as a hero in his eyes. A small town like Villeneuve, an orphaned boy living with his aunt and uncle, insecure and frightened, somehow managed to become friends with the most popular boy in the village. It was miraculous.

 

Their friendship was unlike any of Gaston’s others. None of the other boys were invited to stay over at his home. None of the other boys had to hear the terrible way Gaston’s cruel drunk of a father would treat him. None of the other boys kept their bedroom windows unlocked, just in case Gaston’s father got so drunk he beat him black and blue; none of the other boys knew what it was to spend the night hushing his tears as they fell asleep on a tiny cot barely able to contain one person, let alone two.

 

But throughout their adolescence, LeFou realized he could not recall a single moment in which Gaston flagrantly pursued the affections of the fairer sex. It wasn’t until after his father had died that Gaston began to show any interest. Even so, his pursuit always seemed to be lust-driven as opposed to anything substantial.

 

Belle had been the first exception.

 

Gaston was staring at him expectantly and LeFou realized he’d been lost in his reminiscing for far too long. “Do you have your suspicions?”

 

He shrugged noncommittally. “That may be tricky, with the exception of Belle, my affection was sought after by a good many women.” _Ah._ There was the cocky and arrogant attitude he had grown accustomed to over the years.

 

LeFou sighed. Usually when Gaston would make a conceited comment, or compliment himself, LeFou was the first to validate his claim. The need to assure the man of his worth stemmed from years of caring for a shattered and wan ego that came at the hands of a cruel man. Unfortunately, it worked far too well. LeFou accepted his part in the vanity of his friend. But not any longer. “You have fourteen days to find the woman whom has imparted her genuine affection onto you and learn to return it. Now is not the time for self-importance.”

 

Gaston’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He tilted his head, expression curious as opposed to angry. “You haven’t forgiven me.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“You haven’t apologized!” He hadn’t meant to yell, but he found himself feeling far more annoyed by Gaston’s behavior than enamored. Perhaps seeing a cruelty in his friend reminiscent of the man’s own father had shattered his illusions of Gaston’s potential. While he should have felt forlorn over such an idea, there was a part of him that was grateful. Grateful for the opportunity to perhaps rid himself of his inappropriate feelings for Gaston.

 

“Do you want a damn sonnet?” he demanded as he stood, the anger in his tone rising with his height. “I told you you were right, LeFou. With the exception of you petting my ego, when have I ever said those words to you, or anyone else for that matter?” Gaston started pacing before he rounded on LeFou again, “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I let my need to win consume me and allowed you and others from our village to suffer for it!”

 

LeFou was stunned silent, unable to respond, or honestly think. It wasn’t until Gaston let out an annoyed huff and moved towards the front door that he was spurred to action. Following his friend, a hand upon his arm was enough to halt him. “Wait.”

 

Gaston regarded him, eyebrow quirked in challenge.

 

“How am I supposed to accept your apology when you storm off?”

 

The way Gaston’s features softened in relief, a stark contrast to his usual bravado, and reminiscent of the time they were children; LeFou felt his resolve crumble. “Come, we have a lot of work ahead of us.”

 

“Work?”

 

LeFou smiled. “We have to narrow down which of the women in Villeneuve genuinely love you, right?”

 

Gaston chuckled and moved back to the cushioned seat.

 

There was a change in the air and for the first time in the last few days, LeFou felt something akin to hope.

 

* * *

  

Gaston would be lying if he claimed anything other than relief at gaining the forgiveness of LeFou. There were aspects of his actions over the course of the last few days that he did grow to regret. Consumed by a bruising to his ego that almost reverted him back to that of a terrified child, whose worth was assaulted by a cruel drunk on a daily basis.

 

Rejection was painful, that was true for every person. But for Gaston? It came with a slew of emotions that he had thought were buried with his father. And for Belle to reject his advances for that of a creature that wasn’t even _human,_ the vicious words of his father echoed on repeat in his head.

 

_No one could ever love a sniveling and pathetic creature like you. Not even your mother could care enough to stay alive._

 

Not that it excused his behavior. He had little remorse for being capable of convincing the entire village to raid that castle. The only shame he felt came with that of how he treated LeFou and allowing himself to succumb to his hatred, likely terrifying Belle in his attempt to kill the beast. As for the rest? While he refuted the monster that he had become in his last moments of life, Gaston was no saint. He never would be.

 

But he wasn’t about to give up his second chance. If contrition was needed for his actions, it was a small demand for that of his life.

 

They had spent the evening discussing the possible women who had genuine love for Gaston. LeFou had made the point that more than likely it was either Claudette, Laurette, or Paulette. One of the triplets. Gaston had to concede the validity of such an assumption.

 

The thought of having to learn to reciprocate affections for one of the simpering and fawning sisters filled him with dread. Gaston would almost prefer to succumb to his fate. He thanked LeFou for his aid and moved to stand, ready to permit his friend some much needed rest.

 

LeFou walked him to the door, likely out of habit, considering there had been a considerable shift in their relationship. One that Gaston wasn’t all that annoyed with if he was perfectly honest. He actually liked that LeFou had found his voice and could now exercise it.

 

“Gaston?” he asked as he moved to grasp the handle of the door before turning around and leaning his back against it.

 

“LeFou?” Gaston returned.

 

“Why?”

 

Gaston furrowed his brow, clearly not understanding what it was his friend was asking of him. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

 

LeFou let out a soft sigh, not out of frustration, but reticence. He turned to look up, their eyes locking as Lefou fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Why were you so angry?”

 

He couldn’t help but snort in disbelief. What a question! And not one that is all that easy to answer. After his behavior, the least he could do was offer as much of a truth as he could to the one person in his life who would be capable of understanding. With a deep sigh, Gaston exhaled and said, “An old drunk’s words rang a little too true with Belle’s dismissal of me.”

 

Without hesitation, LeFou grasped his shoulder, a gesture of comfort. He fixed Gaston with a serious expression and replied, “He can’t hurt you anymore, Gaston.”

 

Clasping his own hand over LeFou’s, Gaston nodded and smiled. “He stopped hurting me the day I met you, my friend.” It was surprising how easy it was for those words to tumble from his lips. There was no newness to that train of thought, but he’d never expressed it to LeFou in their twenty years of friendship. Gaston had decided if this was to be his last two weeks of life, there was no point in keeping secrets.

 

LeFou appeared stunned for a moment, eyes raking over Gaston’s face as though trying to determine his sincerity.

 

Gaston chucked LeFou’s chin and moved to grab the handle to his friend’s side, taking note of the way the man’s breath hitched at their proximity. He had always suspected LeFou was inclined to such proclivities, a fact he had used far too often to manipulate his friend. Gaston felt a wave of regret then, considering his own wandering thoughts throughout his life. It seemed unnecessarily cruel.

 

“Goodnight, LeFou,” he offered with a small smile.

 

Sliding out of Gaston’s way, LeFou nodded and pulled the door open for him. “Good luck tomorrow.”

 

He would most definitely need it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I didn't forget about this story! I'm still working on it! Just busy with other projects, too. But yes, I have it plotted out and I'm going to finish it. Also, the rating will change for this story, the characters took me in a direction I wasn't anticipating. I'm sure you won't mind. 
> 
> Also also, I've now seen this movie 16 times in the theater. I love it that much. <3<3
> 
> And again, a huge, squishy squishy squish to my schwibbel, [anyrei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anyrei/pseuds/anyrei) for betaing this. I LOVE YOU.

Word had spread rather quickly of Gaston’s triumphant defeat of his own death. The details were marred by exaggerations and rumors, for it was only LeFou, Gaston, and Agathe who knew the explicit details. The stories varied: from Gaston having simply survived the fall, to more cruel or even outlandish explanations. LeFou found that Gaston’s ego having cushioned the fall to be the most ludicrous and strangely, closest to the truth of his situation.

 

When LeFou had awoken the morning following Gaston’s visit, he had discovered the rumors while gathering fresh eggs from his aunt’s chicken coop. Stanley had rushed up to their gate, panting heavily as though he had run from wherever he came from.

 

“LeFou! Have you heard?”

 

He gave the man a bemused smile. “Heard what?”

 

Stanley leaned over the gate, eyes wide in amazement. “Gaston’s alive!”

 

LeFou couldn’t help the knowing chuckle. “I had heard. How did you know?”

 

“The barmaid at the lodge saw him rush from his room last evening…”

 

No wonder Stanley knew. In fact, with the sort of tongue Sophie possessed, LeFou wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire town was aware at that point. He nodded his understanding to his friend and continued his chores without fanfare.

 

His silent response was apparently far from satisfactory to Stanley, who unlocked the gate and approached. “You don’t seem all that impressed with the news.”

 

LeFou shrugged as he continued to finish his morning chores. What was he to say? Half the town saw what transpired between them. What they didn’t see or hear was an unexpected apology that had almost instantly quelled any anger he had for the man. What good would anger do? LeFou would forgive Gaston anything. But that did not mean he would allow himself to be bewitched by the man again.

 

“I might have been were I not already aware,” he added casually as he leaned down to feed one of the goats a handful of oats.

 

Stanley fixed him with an awed expression. “So, is it true? Did Gaston really survive the fall due to the cushioning of his own ego?”

 

LeFou tilted his head at the younger man, assessing him, as though trying to determine if he was being serious. Stanley’s expression was quite sincere and LeFou was unable to refrain from the surprised scoff that escaped him. “Of course not. That’s utterly ludicrous and relatively cruel.”

 

“No more cruel than threatening to lock you up for standing against him,” he challenged, his eyebrow arched.

 

Somehow LeFou managed to refrain from cringing at the comment. “You heard that?”

 

Stanley approached, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I was surprised by it as well. You’ve always been the one person Gaston regarded with any semblance of genuine kindness.”

 

“As long as I don’t stand in his way,” he bit out as he moved onto the stables to attach a couple of feed bags to Wilfred and Hercules. Which reminded him, now that Gaston was alive, it might be prudent to return his horse to him.

 

The warmth of a hand pressed at his lower back startled him. LeFou quickly turned and was face to face with an earnest expression and dark brown eyes. That was almost more startling. Stanley offered a soft smile. “You’re too good for him, LeFou.”

 

Words he’d heard often over the course of the last day. LeFou shrugged him off, feeling slightly tense over their proximity. Stanley had always been such a gracious gentleman. While he, Tom, and Dick had all been quick to jump at the orders of Gaston, Stanley was the only one of them to dispel any friendliness unto LeFou. Of course, he was a little more sensitive than the other two brutes.

 

LeFou returned the smile. “I’m understanding that now.” He dusted his hands off on his trousers as he took a step back from the younger man. “Well, I appreciate your concern, Stanley. I have more chores to attend to while my aunt is away…”

 

“Would you like some help? I have no obligations today.”

 

That took him aback. It wasn’t as though his chores were particularly strenuous, more tedious than anything, but he’d be lying if the thought of having company wasn’t appealing. LeFou nodded and answered cordially, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

 

The smile he was rewarded with was almost blinding. Stanley had powerfully white teeth, which was unsurprising considering his father’s occupation as the village dentist. As the younger man followed him inside, LeFou offered him a seat and asked, “Would you mind starting a fire? I’ll start making breakfast, if you’d care to join me?”

 

“I’d love to,” he commented with an air of awe as he moved to the hearth.

 

LeFou felt a wave of fondness wash over him. Their camaraderie had an air of domesticity that was quite reminiscent of a life that he would never be permitted considering his proclivities and inclinations.

 

For as long as he could remember, he’d always been different. Had always stood out and not only for his additional weight. Often referred to as the vice of the English, LeFou hadn’t come to the realization he suffered from this sin until he’d reached an older age. His gaze had never lingered on the fairer sex, but often he found himself inclined to staring upon Gaston for longer than was appropriate.

 

His longest friend, what he initially mistook for idolization, he came to realize one summer’s day that it was anything but. LeFou recalled fondly as he started grabbing the cured meats and eggs to start their breakfast.

 

It had been the first time LeFou and Gaston had been permitted to go on a trip to the market alone. They’d even been given money to rent a room for the night. And that was the night he had his sexual awakening. Not from action, but rather understanding.

 

The market was in a larger city, not quite as large as Paris, but far more busy and alive than Villeneuve. They met people from all walks of life. Gypsies, burlesque performers, farmers, the elite, the impoverished. As young men, barely sixteen, having been raised in such a rural and small village, it was invigorating.

 

That night, Gaston and LeFou had taken to the streets, to soak in as much of the culture as was possible before they would have to return home the following morning. They had managed to find a tavern still open at the late hour they were soaking in the sights. Allowed entrance without question, at first they hadn’t even realized quite what they had stumbled upon.

 

When LeFou caught a pair of men engaged in a sexual act in the corner of the tavern, none of the other patrons paying them any mind, did he realize they had entered a Molly House. His ears heated in embarrassment and a sensation he had never felt before. A stirring in his loins, which had been late coming considering his age. LeFou was equally horrified and confused in that moment.

 

He had turned to Gaston, expression quizzical and concerned. Surprisingly, his friend merely shrugged it off and moved to order them a couple of pints from the barman. As they sat down at a booth, given a semblance of privacy, LeFou couldn’t refrain from asking his friend about his reaction. What had come from Gaston’s mouth had surprised him even further.

 

_“Their choices, their lifestyle… That’s between God and them. It has nothing to do with me.”_

 

That’s what had been so surprising about Gaston’s efforts in storming the castle. While he had his faults – and quite a few of them if LeFou were perfectly honest – he’d never held judgement for people. LeFou had convinced himself that it was one of the few positive traits of his friend, but over time he had started to wonder if it was simply that Gaston was so self-absorbed, he just couldn’t be bothered with other people.

 

LeFou had realized he’d been in a daze for far too long and proceeded to finish preparing breakfast for himself and Stanley.

 

When he finally returned to the sitting room, Stanley had hung the kettle on the metal rod that was attached to the hearth, dangling over a fire that was now warming up the cold home. Met with another dazzling smile, the younger man was instantly at his side, grabbing some of the items LeFou was carrying to lighten his load.

 

He gave Stanley a grateful smile and they sat side by side on the divan across from the settee as they began to eat. Being an orphaned child, he had never been fond of loneliness. As he grew older, his personal time was more valued, but sharing his space with another was always prefered. Usually, his free time was occupied by Gaston and his needs, but with the shift due to Gaston’s behavior the night prior, LeFou was conflicted.

 

How would one correlate the man who had been the sole possessor of his heart for most of his life, with the monster who incensed an entire town to form into an irrational mob? LeFou had been more and more displeased with Gaston’s behavior since Belle’s rejection, but had still managed to excuse it. Whether it was for Gaston’s sake, or his own, LeFou couldn’t be certain.

 

“You seem distracted,” Stanley commented as he ripped a piece of the baguette off.

 

“I apologize, Stanley. I was just thinking about–”

 

“Gaston?” he finished.

 

LeFou smiled ruefully. “Old habits…”

 

Stanley regarded him for a moment, expression quite serious as he placed his plate down between them to turn and face LeFou more fully. He appeared rather reticent as he asked, “May I ask you something?”

 

“Of course, Stanley.”

 

He wrung his hands, apparently nervous, as he couldn’t make eye contact. “You’re… you’re fond of Gaston, right?”

 

LeFou eyed him suspiciously, trying to determine what it was that he was implying. “He’s my oldest friend. The first person to befriend me when I arrived here as a child.”

 

“Yes, yes of course… I just… I meant…” Stanley kept stammering and stumbling over his words.

 

With a quirked brow, LeFou continued to regard Stanley with curiosity. He had no idea to what the younger man was implying, nor why it would cause him to stumble so thoroughly over his words. After a few more minutes of nonsensical babbling, his own patience grew thin. He found himself empathizing with Gaston in that moment, whenever he would grow frustrated with LeFou’s own bumbling attempts at conversation.

 

Usually, a stammering that would arise when he found himself slightly overwhelmed by the man’s attractiveness, or if Gaston took it upon himself to impart some physical affection unto LeFou. That gave LeFou pause in that moment, tilting his head as he attempted to evaluate the younger man’s behavior. Was it possible his stammering stemmed from a similar affection for himself?

 

He refrained from scoffing at his own thoughts. It was ludicrous. Stanley was a handsome young man and, even if he were so inclined to the vice of the English, the likelihood he would impart affection onto LeFou was laughable. While he was aware that he was not ugly by any means, he was also painfully aware he was nowhere near the physical perfection of a man like Gaston.

 

“Stanley. Please, you can speak freely. I will not be angry, whatever you are trying to ask or suggest.”

 

The younger man nodded, a grateful whisper of a smile upturning his lips, although there was still a reticence in his mannerisms. After a beat he finally said, “You’re such an enigma, LeFou. Why did you dote so much on him?”

 

LeFou was dumbstruck, unsure how to respond. Stanley’s tone was fond, yet accusatory. It almost came across as jealousy. But that was entirely preposterous. _And what a question! Why, indeed!_ LeFou knew exactly why, but it was not discussed in any sort of company who were not comprised of your own proclivities. He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t answer your question.”

 

Stanley scooted a little closer to LeFou, placing his hand tentatively on LeFou’s knee. At the lack of response, Stanley’s grip tightened a little. LeFou felt lost in Stanley’s eyes, his gaze unblinking and intense.

 

With a purposeful exhale, Stanley licked the seam of his bottom lip as his eyes darted to LeFou’s own. When their eyes locked again, he finally asked, voice barely above a whisper, “Is it because you love him?”

 

LeFou’s breath hitched, a little overwhelmed from the tenseness between them. He didn’t know how to answer his friend. He did. He absolutely _did_ love Gaston, but did he still? The man he had grown to adore over the years, who turned into a horrific monster, far scarier than any beast hidden within a castle. LeFou wasn’t sure how he could possibly spare any feelings for such a creature and while there was this torturous part of him that knew he’d never be free of his affection for Gaston; there was a glimmer of hope now, for he felt he could feasibly move on. Something he’d never felt before.

 

Feeling brazen, maybe it was the intoxication he felt from Stanley’s proximity, LeFou gripped his friend’s wrist and pulled his hand higher upon his thigh. When he released Stanley’s wrist, the hand was now trailing higher without his ushering. LeFou let out a sharp gasp as Stanley snaked his hand to his inner thigh.

 

When Stanley’s palm cupped LeFou’s slowly hardening erection through his trousers, he was spurred into action, yanking Stanley fully on top of him, their lips crashing together in a frenzied collision of unadulterated need for any sort of contact. Managing to untuck Stanley’s shirt without ever breaking contact, LeFou slid his hands beneath the garment, groaning at the sensation of heated skin against his bare palms.

 

The loud and persistent knock was as effective for dousing their arousal as a bucket of cold water. Stanley drew back instantly, looking as shaken as LeFou felt. When the knocking was followed by an insistent, “LeFou!” he cringed. It was Gaston.

 

LeFou bit his bottom lip, unsure of what he should do.

 

Stanley started tucking in his shirt and gave him a sad nod. “You shouldn’t have him wait.”

 

He felt immensely grateful for Stanley in that moment. With an imperceptible nod, LeFou moved to stand. Before approaching the door, he leaned close to Stanley and whispered, “If this was not an unexpected or unwanted occurrence, I wouldn’t mind sharing supper with someone tonight.”

 

That was met with a blinding grin. LeFou returned the smile and let out an annoyed sigh at Gaston’s continued knocking. When he slammed the door open, he regarded Gaston with a quirked brow, arms folded over his chest. “What?”

 

* * *

 

When Gaston had woken that morning, he had come to the realization that he could save himself within a day if he simply approached the three sisters and declared his love for each one. When the spell was broken, he could then choose whomever was the one because she truly loved him and then he’d be free to live the rest of his life however he wished.

 

Feeling particularly proud of his little stroke of genius, Gaston kicked off his duvet and hurriedly dressed himself. It was half past eight, which meant they would be at the dress shop. He took a quick look in the mirror, palming his hair, smoothing it out and giving his reflection a wink as he departed.

 

The dress shop was owned by the three sisters’ family. Which had proven quite fortuitous that their offspring had all been girls. When he saw the three sisters standing in the bay window of their shop, there was visible excitement in their movement, as their eyes lit up when they noticed him. Gaston smirked at them and approached.

 

That’s when he realized, though he knew their names, he wasn’t entirely certain who was who. Gaston shrugged that little detail off. When he entered the shop, he gave them all a charming smile, causing the three women to all but hyperventilate. “May I have a word with each of you outside, one at a time?”

 

Gaston didn’t wait for an answer and swept out of the shop, standing outside waiting for whomever came out first. When the tallest sister approached first, he smiled at her. “My darling… uh…”

 

“Paulette,” she supplied, still sounding completely enamored with him.

 

“Paulette, yes. My darling, do you love me?”

 

She nodded emphatically. “Oh, yes. Very much so.”

 

Gaston smiled. “I love you, too, my dearest.”

 

Paulette became all a tither, fanning herself with her hand. Gaston paid her no mind and pulled open his shirt to peek down at the tattoo. _Damn!_ It was still there. Gaston gently grasped her shoulder. “My dearest, I love you like a sister. If you could go get Claudette?”

 

Her expression went from surprised, to outright horrified as she darted back in, head in her hands to catch her tears. Gaston shrugged it off and waited for the next sister.

 

Claudette appeared far more reticent than her first sister. “Gaston?”

 

“Claudette, do you love me?”

 

“I do, Gaston.” She seemed far more reserved, perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in curiosity.

 

“Wonderful! I love you as well.”

 

Claudette’s reserved behavior was instantaneously gone as she grasped him by the biceps and yanked him forward into a kiss. Gaston drew back with an awkward half-smile and pulled open his shirt again. The tattoo was still there, mocking him. “As a sister, Claudette. I love you as a brother would love his sister.”

 

She scoffed at him and in a flourish, darted back within the shop. Leaving Laurette as the remaining sister. She must be who truly loved him. When she stepped outside, Gaston bombarded her with a rushed, “You love me, right?”

 

Laurette tentatively nodded and he smiled, pulling her flush against him.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

The woman outright swooned, collapsing against him. Gaston easily lifted her unconscious form and stepped back inside the shop. After depositing her upon one of the couches, he pulled his shirt open one last time. The rose was still there, still marring his otherwise perfect skin. Gaston let out an annoyed huff and departed the shop with quick, purposeful steps. Never once casting a look back.

 

He needed to speak with LeFou. They had clearly missed someone in their calculations. When he finally reached the cottage of LeFou’s family, he knocked on the door. It was almost nine and he knew his friend would have already gotten up to tend to the animals. He was like clockwork.

 

At the lack of answer, he found himself growing annoyed. LeFou never took this long to answer his call. For good measure he snapped out a hurried, “LeFou!”

 

He heard scrambling then and when LeFou opened the door, the sight that met Gaston took him aback. LeFou appeared slightly ruffled, his hair down and far more mussed than he was used to seeing, shirt untucked. Gaston was surprised to see his friend in such a state. And then to be met with such a short and snappish, “What?”

 

Gaston shook his head of his thoughts and barked, “We were wrong about the triplets, LeFou.”

 

The shorter man let out a sigh and stepped aside. “Come in…”

 

He stepped inside and was even further surprised to find Stanley in the sitting area. Gaston peered down at LeFou in bemusement. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

 

“I didn’t know I needed to run it by you.”

 

The petulant and defiant tone was far more surprising than anything else he’d experienced in the last few days. Gaston regarded LeFou for a moment, holding his gaze, before turning to snap at Stanley, “Leave us.”

 

“No.” LeFou stepped in front of Gaston and gently placed his hands against his chest as he pushed Gaston towards the door. “You don’t get to make demands of a guest in my home, Gaston.”

 

He captured LeFou’s wrists and halted his movement. His friend was nowhere near as strong as he, it didn’t take much. “Look…” Gaston sighed and shrugged in acquiescence. “I apologize. But I really do need to speak with you.”

 

LeFou let out another sigh and shook Gaston’s grip from his wrists. He turned to the man presently grating on Gaston’s last nerve with a soft smile. “Stanley, if you wouldn’t mind?”

 

“Not at all,” he answered, grabbing his hat before slipping past the two of them. “Tonight, for supper?”

 

LeFou gave him another smile and answered, “I’d like that.”

 

When the door was closed with the departure of Stanley, Gaston instantly felt relaxed and annoyed all at once. Relaxed now that Stanley was gone. He didn’t like the way he was looking at LeFou. And furthermore, he especially didn’t like the way LeFou looked at Stanley. LeFou had only ever imparted that level of genuine adoration unto Gaston. That look belonged to him.

 

“You’re having supper with him?” He surprised himself with the level of accusation in his tone.

 

That was met with an eyeroll. “What did you need, Gaston?”

 

“I’d thought you had forgiven me…” Gaston was under the impression that they had repaired the broken bridge between them, but his friend’s behavior suggested otherwise.

 

LeFou leaned against the table and shrugged. “I have forgiven you. I haven’t forgotten what you did, though. I care for you, Gaston, you were my oldest friend. And I intend to help you survive this curse, but do not mistake my help for anything more than that.”

 

“LeFou…” Gaston started as he stepped closer to his friend, intending to grasp his shoulders in affection when the shorter man side-stepped him. He let out a slightly defeated sigh. “Is that it, then? Is our friendship done with?”

 

“Who else did you apologize to, Gaston?” he asked defiantly, arms folded over his chest.

 

“No one. I don’t give a damn about the rest of the villagers. They did not have to follow me.”

 

LeFou inhaled and exhaled through his nose, before shaking his head in disappointment. “And of Maurice? Belle?”

 

Gaston winced. LeFou had a point. His mistreatment of them had been the start of the riot he instigated. But he found even then, he likely would have never thought of it without LeFou’s reminder. “If I ask for their forgiveness, will that repair our friendship?”

 

And there it was. The flicker of adoration. It was short-lived and instantly hidden behind a quirked brow, but Gaston still caught it. LeFou shook his head and chuckled. “It’ll help.” He moved to stoke the fire and asked in a much lighter tone than earlier, “So, what did you need my help with?”

 

“I decided that if I told all three triplets I loved them, whichever one of the three truly loved me would be revealed and I would be free of my curse. It appears none of them are the one.” To accentuate his point, Gaston pulled his shirt open to show LeFou the tattoo. “See?”

 

LeFou appeared struck dumb for a brief moment, before turning his gaze away. When suddenly he appeared baffled and returned his gaze, brow quirked quizzically. “You told each of them you loved them and assumed that would free you of the curse? You cannot just say you love someone, Gaston. You have to mean it!”

 

Gaston let out an annoyed sigh. “Well, that’s hardly fair. Who even knows what love is? I thought I loved Belle. Look where that got me…”

 

“Love is definitely not an unhealthy obsession with having the best of everything.” LeFou slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes widened in surprise. He clearly had not intended to say that outloud.

 

He couldn’t even bring himself to feel upset at the comment, the comedy of LeFou’s expression curling his own lips up in an involuntary smile. Gaston chose to change the subject, “Have you ever been in love, LeFou?” He unceremoniously plopped himself on the settee.

 

LeFou shuffled his feet in apparent nervousness, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… I’d rather not say.”

 

“Since when?” Gaston asked, tone surprised yet intrigued. “You never told me!”

 

“And I never will.” LeFou waved him off dismissively. “My feelings were never reciprocated, nor will they ever be. I’d rather not think or talk about it.”

 

He regarded his friend for a moment, looking him over. While he respected not wanting to dredge up a pain that still appeared to take ahold of LeFou’s countenance, his curiosity could not be quenched. Gaston made a mental note to attempt to talk to his friend about it again at a more opportune time. “Alright. Then can you tell me what you felt, so I may have an idea of what it feels like?”

 

LeFou barked out a laugh and asked, “How do you expect me to describe what love feels like?”

 

“I don’t know! You seem to know much more than I do…” Gaston gave his friend a pleading look, one that often worked in the past when he needed LeFou to do something he wasn’t comfortable with.

 

“I… I suppose…” he stammered before moving to sit next to Gaston. “When you love someone, you find yourself able to do things you never thought possible. Both good and bad. When you love someone, a sly smile cast in your direction that is just for you would be enough to illuminate the rest of your day, even if it’s raining and miserable. When you love someone, a compliment can invigorate you, but an insult can cause you to crumble. When you love someone, you make excuses for behavior that is far beyond the pale…” He turned to look up, holding Gaston’s gaze as he finished, “When you love someone, even when you lose them entirely, you’re just as cursed as that castle, because you cannot ever escape it.”

 

Gaston had never seen such pain in his friend’s eyes. Not even such a pain with their departing exchange the night he died. He gently grasped LeFou’s shoulder and tried to lighten the mood, “Is there anything good about being in love?”

 

They shared a laugh, LeFou rolled his eyes, this time good naturedly from the curve of his lips. “There is. The joy it can invoke… Sometimes it makes the bad things almost seem worth it.”

 

“How did you know? What made you realize your affection was actually love?”

 

“When my thoughts, in sleep as well as waking, were always of him…” LeFou gasped and jumped up, stepping away from Gaston. “Her! I meant her!”

 

Gaston was taken aback by that reaction, more so than the slip. He’d always suspected that LeFou suffered the vice of the English, but he’d never spoken of it. With a shake of his head, Gaston raised his hand to halt his friend’s panicking. “LeFou, my friend… What makes you think I wasn’t already aware of your inclinations?”

 

“Wh–what?”

 

“Well, not aware so much as I suspected. Please. Sit down. I don’t care what your preferences are.” And he meant that. While he may have used people's’ inclinations toward small minded pre judgemental thoughts to further his own agenda; he’d never actually cared. He did not care that Belle wished to teach a girl to read. He did not care if people wished to instill change, or keep to the status quo. Gaston always believed that whatever a person did was between that person and God.

 

LeFou appeared frozen in place, he stammered out, “You… You do–don’t care?”

 

Gaston shrugged. “Of course I don’t care.”

 

The shorter man’s shoulders slumped in relief as he moved to sit down again. “I’m a little surprised you’re so calm about it.”

 

“Why?” That perplexed Gaston. He’d never expressed views or opinions of any person’s behavior over the course of their lives. Not even that of his own father’s on the nights he had crept through the village to crawl through LeFou’s second floor window and curl up in a cot with him.

 

“Considering your behavior the last several days…”

 

“Lead one angry mob and suddenly you’re the villain instead of the hero,” Gaston teased, smirking at his friend.

 

LeFou flicked his nose. “Stop it. You don’t get to make light of what you did yet.” The smile on his face belied his true feelings.

 

Gaston couldn’t help but feel relieved. Perhaps there was hope that he could regain LeFou’s trust and friendship again. Maybe even get the adoring look that belonged to him back from Stanley. In that moment he grew serious. “I am sorry, you know. Truly sorry.”

 

LeFou shifted and cleared his throat awkwardly as he changed the subject, “So, when did you get a tattoo?”

 

“It’s symbolic of the curse. Each day a petal will fall and disappear, until the final one…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. LeFou could gather the remaining implication.

 

“Well, then… Let’s figure out how to make you fall in love with one of the triplets.”

 

Gaston let out an undignified groan.

 

* * *

 

LeFou felt particularly troubled as he and Gaston worked on a plan to attempt to help him learn to love one of the triplets. Troubled because the thought of Gaston loving one of those simpering girls was disquieting. Further insinuating his own struggle with letting go of what he felt for the man.

 

Since his return, Gaston had been much more like his former self. Still relatively narcissistic, but the sweet and kind side of him peeking out a lot more than it had before. Genuinely apologizing to him, trying to bring back their former camaraderie. It wasn’t helping his situation.

 

And then there was Stanley. Simple, kind, uncomplicated Stanley. Who apparently shared his affliction with the vice and expressed an interest. Gaston was a dead end, but Stanley could be the path he’d been searching for his whole life. The path that had been far too often obscured by the roadblocks that were Gaston.

 

Gaston scrubbed his hand over his face, belying his annoyance with their discussion. “This is impossible, LeFou! How am I supposed to love someone I have no affection for in less than a fortnight?”

 

“Love doesn’t work the way you expect it to. I don’t know…” LeFou let out a deep sigh and handed Gaston a cup of tea. “Maybe we’re approaching this wrong. What do you find attractive in a woman? Not just appearance wise. I mean, what drew you to Belle?”

 

He appeared contemplative for a moment, before regarding LeFou with a serious expression. “It was her appearance, that and her fight. The fact that she wanted nothing to do with me made her all the more appealing. I liked the challenge of it.”

 

LeFou let out a mirthless chuckle. “You’ll definitely not get that from the triplets. There must be something else that draws you to a woman.”

 

Gaston practically growled in his frustration. “I might as well prepare myself for my death.”

 

“There’s no need to be melodramatic, Gaston. Come on, you must have felt something akin to affection for someone in your life? Perhaps during childhood?” LeFou had grown up with Gaston, but while he was certain he would have recalled his friend talking fondly of a girl he had affection for, LeFou had to admit there was a chance that Gaston may have had his own share of secrets.

 

“LeFou…” Gaston groaned, leaning back against the settee. “You’re the only person I have ever honestly cared for. Too bad you aren’t a woman!” he joked.

 

LeFou let out an awkward, half-hearted chuckle. Yeah, if he was a woman, a lot of what he felt for his friend would make both of their lives all the more easy. “Too bad you don’t suffer from the vice,” he jested in turn. Feeling a strange sense of liberation at being able to speak so freely.

 

Gaston chuckled, but then his expression grew serious, eyes widened with realization. “It’s Stanley, isn’t it? Who you love?”

 

He rolled his eyes at the taller man. “No. I told you I am not discussing this with you, but I can assure you, it’s not Stanley. And even if it was, I wouldn’t discuss it with you. It is not my place to discuss other people’s personal lives.”

 

After a beat of awkward silence, Gaston asked, voice so low it was almost inaudible, “What’s it like? The vice, I mean…”

 

LeFou was taken aback. They’d never discussed anything of the sort, not that there had ever been cause for it. Not even the night when they were but adolescents and stumbled upon a Molly House. Not even then did they discuss the finite points of what it was like to harbor a physical attraction to another man. The heat rose to his cheeks, he didn’t even know where to begin. “Why are you suddenly so interested?”

 

Gaston shrugged. “I suppose I’d never given the affliction much thought. It is fascinating though, isn’t it? So, when you look at a woman, not a single part of you finds yourself physically drawn to her? Not even one such as Belle?”

 

He shook his head. “No. I can tell when a woman is attractive, but I don’t feel attracted to her.”

 

“How do you know you just haven’t met a woman you feel that way for?” His series of questions held no maliciousness, no cruelty. Gaston appeared genuinely interested.

 

LeFou shook his head and replied honestly, “Because I suspect the way you feel when you look at an attractive woman garners a much different response than when I do. When you look at a man, do you find yourself inexplicably drawn to him the way you are a woman?”

 

Gaston appeared completely nonchalant as he answered with an almost uncaring, “I cannot honestly say I’ve thought about it.”

 

“Well, I have. I tried on multiple occasions to feel for a woman the way I do for a man. I’m utterly incapable.”

 

His friend nodded his understanding, resting his crooked elbow along the backside of the settee as he faced LeFou more fully. His gaze was intense, hazel eyes burning into him. Gaston fixed LeFou with a curious smile. “So, what type of man are you attracted to?”

 

If LeFou had been drinking a beverage in that moment, he would have choked on it. He felt as though he were in a surreal world, in which talking of such things were commonplace between two men who did not share similar interests. His cheeks heated, because unfortunately, describing what type of man he found himself attracted to would immediately implicate Gaston; and even he wasn’t so dense to presume LeFou was talking about someone else.

 

After a beat and an expectant look from Gaston, LeFou let out a deep sigh and answered in as roundabout a way he could, “There are many things I find attractive I suppose…”

 

“Well, now you’re being purposely obtuse. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, LeFou. Are you concerned I will pass judgement now?”

 

“No, not at all… It’s just… I’ve never really thought about it. The man I… for whom I hold affection isn’t like many other men I have met, so I can’t say for certain I have a type.”

 

Gaston hummed thoughtfully, making LeFou feel even more scrutinized. He had no idea how to deal with Gaston’s behavior. He trusted the man implicitly, particularly with this secret, but they were bordering on a discussion he had hoped to never have with the man.

 

When Gaston’s eyes widened with apparent realization, LeFou felt himself cringing preemptively at whatever his friend had realized. “It _is_ Stanley, isn't it? Despite your protests.”

 

LeFou instantly felt relieved that his assumptions continued to be so far off-base. But were they? Were they off-base? While Gaston was incorrect in his assumption of who LeFou loved, he did genuinely like Stanley. And unlike Gaston, that could potentially go somewhere. While a part of him wanted to approach whatever happened between himself and Stanley with an air of realistic expectations; he wondered if he could fully commit himself to something if his heart wasn’t in it? Then again, the odds of a man like LeFou finding love and a relationship were so unlikely, he supposed he should just be grateful.

 

“I do like Stanley, but…”

 

“But…” Gaston prompted after another beat of silence.

 

He shrugged. “I’m not the sort to be picky, am I?”

 

Gaston’s brow furrowed quizzically. “Why on earth not?”

 

LeFou rolled his eyes and extended his arms out in presentation. “Look at me, Gaston.”

 

He looked over LeFou, head shaking in bemusement. “What’s wrong with your appearance? You’re definitely one of the better looking men of the village.”

 

That took him aback. He almost scoffed, thinking that surely Gaston was mocking him. The serious expression on his face stated otherwise. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”

 

“Of course,” Gaston muttered with an air of arrogance that solidified the character of the man he’d known for the better part of his life. “You have a handsome face, your physique is sturdy, strong, and impressively buoyant despite the little bit of extra weight. You have a nice smile and kind eyes. Any woman, or man for that matter, would do well by you, LeFou.”

 

LeFou regarded his friend for a moment. It was a particularly poignant compliment and while his friend had never been too shy to verbalize his appreciation for LeFou, it had never quite felt so personal before. Usually Gaston complimented him after he’d bolstered his ego. When Gaston gave him a slightly quirked smile, LeFou’s heart started to beat faster.

 

This was why he wanted to attempt to distance himself from the man! It didn’t take long for him to find himself completely at the mercy of Gaston, yet again. LeFou had hoped that after his friend’s monstrous behavior he would finally be free of the emotions that consumed him. Yet, here he was, feeling as though he were falling all over again. He needed to stop this nonsense. He needed to move on. LeFou moved to stand, grasping Gaston by the elbow. “You need to leave.”

 

“LeFou! What are you talking about? We were having a nice conversation!”

 

“That’s the problem!” he snapped. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head sadly. “You keep dragging me in, when I want to be free of you, Gaston. If you care for me at all, you’ll leave right now.”

 

Instead of seeming angry, Gaston seemed more concerned than anything else. Which wasn’t helping LeFou’s situation. Gaston stepped forward, gently grasping him by the chin, which LeFou shook off and stepped away, now unable to make eye contact.

 

“Alright, LeFou. I will leave.” Without any fanfare, the taller man made his way to the door. Just before he opened it, he cast his friend a sorrowful smile and parted with a gentle, “Enjoy your evening with Stanley. I… I wish you the best, my friend.”

 

LeFou nodded dumbly and when the door closed behind Gaston’s retreating form, he collapsed against the settee. He scrubbed his hand over his face and cursed himself for allowing himself to feel so vulnerable in Gaston’s presence, yet again. The man was cruel and arrogant. LeFou needed to cut his losses.

 

* * *

 

Gaston was conflicted. He had felt hope in their reverie. Hope to repair the friendship he had apparently irreparably damaged in his misguided attempt to conquer Belle’s heart with his malevolent behavior over the last week. It was bizarre, more so than his ego being bruised, he felt genuine despair at the thought of never having a friendly relationship with LeFou again.

 

He stood outside of LeFou’s home for a few moments, looking up at the door, contemplating whether or not he should just storm back in and demand LeFou forgive him already.

 

But the words of his friend echoed in his head.

 

_“If you care for me at all, you’ll leave right now.”_

 

And there was the crux, for he did genuinely care for this man. LeFou had been his oldest and dearest compatriot. As children, he sought comfort in his proffered embrace on the nights his drunk of a father decided to use Gaston as an outlet for his unending rage. During the war, on cold, damp nights as he grew weary of the stench of death and misery, it was always LeFou who would lighten the mood with a joke or a song.

 

Gaston did not have many regrets in his life. He never bothered with them. There was always reason or cause behind every action; whether good or bad. To be regretful was disingenuous, for at the time your action was justified, even if only in your own mind.

 

But he did regret his mistreatment of LeFou over the course of the last week. A man who had always been there for him, in ways he could never repay; and Gaston brushed him off as though he meant nothing. Too often he took for granted LeFou’s support and understanding.

 

Gaston had been blinded by the emotions a brutal rejection had caused. Memories of the night his father died. Sadly, he'd rallied the entire village to avenge his bruised ego, and all because Belle’s words had reverted him to that of the terrified child being verbally accosted by a drunken brute.

 

_“He’s not a monster, Gaston. You are.”_

 

The irony was not lost on Gaston. Those words spurred him into becoming what she accused him of. And all because of a dead man.

  
Bound and determined, Gaston knew his next course of action. It was not to continue his search for this unknown woman who had feelings for him. No. That would have to wait. He needed to make things right with LeFou. And in order to do that, he needed to make things right with Belle and Maurice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these updates are taking forever, but I want to thank each and every one of you that's sticking it out. Again, this is in progress, and my coauthor and I are working on a fuck ton of other projects that have priority, but I continue to work on and develop this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Also, thank you my beautiful, amazing, delightful, great, awesome, fantastic scwibbel for beta'ing this so quickly! [anyrei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anyrei/pseuds/anyrei), you are a goddess!

Gaston made his way to LeFou’s family stable and found Hercules. He knew he could depend on his friend to take good care of his steed. Carefully approaching the animal, Gaston grabbed a sugar cube from the shelf and offered it to him, palm up. Hercules seemed a little reticent at first, but once he appeared to realize who Gaston was, immediately warmed up to him.

 

“Hello, old friend. Did you miss me?”

 

Hercules merely nickered, the low rumble from his throat indicating his happiness. Gaston raked his hand through the horse’s mane and smiled. “You ready for a little journey?”

 

Borrowing a saddle, cinch, and bridle, Gaston got Hercules ready and led him outside. Mounting the steed, Gaston began his trek to the castle. It was a short journey, but long enough to reflect on his situation with a semblance of privacy and peace that he had yet to really have. The continued fading of his tattoo with the daily falling of a petal was still looming overhead. 

 

His life would come to an end, again, if he did not succeed in locating the woman for whom imparted her affection on him, as well as learned to reciprocate those feelings. Which was quite the crux. How was he supposed to focus his attention on such a daunting task when he had a friendship to repair before he could really focus on that? 

 

While it was logical to focus on himself and put LeFou on the back burner, the reality of the situation was, if he  _ was  _ unsuccessful, if he abandoned his friend in a fruitless pursuit of the fairer sex, which ultimately led to his death for a second time; dead or not, Gaston would not have been able to live with himself.

 

LeFou and he had developed a kinship from a young age. He fondly recalled the day they met.

 

 

_ On a sunny day in Villeneuve, Gaston found himself without a means of occupying his time. At twelve years old, he had been deemed old enough to take care of all of the duties required of a man, according to his father. That morning he tended to their animals, completed all of his chores, and took the small stipend he was given to purchase an aged brandy from the local tavern as a gift for his father. _

 

_ It was a double edged sword, purchasing such an item. The gift itself would be appreciated on such a level, that perchance his father would refrain from beating him black and blue for a night or two. But the liquid tended to fuel his father’s anger, thus making him more inclined to violence. _

 

_ Gaston was strolling back through town, gift in hand, when he noticed a new boy, sitting beneath a tree in the main courtyard of the town plaza. His hair was shoulder length, a cherubic face, and slight pudding belly. He was intrigued. Gaston approached, plopping himself down on the ground next to him. _

 

_ “I’m Gaston. You should be my friend.” _

 

_ The boy looked up at him with widened eyes, expression surprised. “Y _ _ –you wish to be fr–friends?” _

 

_ Gaston nodded as he leaned back against the tree. “You’re new in town, wouldn’t you like to have a friend?” _

 

_ That was met with an emphatic nod. Gaston was almost taken aback by the beam of the boy’s smile. He had a small gap between his teeth. Gaston found he really liked this boy and he didn’t even know his name. _

 

_ “You know my name…” _

 

_ “Oh,” he murmured as he fumbled and extended his hand out to Gaston in proper introduction. “I’m LeFou.” _

 

_ Gaston drew back in surprise. “Is that really your name?” _

 

_ LeFou nodded, looking a bit sheepish. Gaston wrapped his arm around his shoulder and grinned. “We shall be friends, then!” _

 

 

 

That had been the first time LeFou looked upon Gaston with a fondness and admiration that he’d grown accustomed to. It was one of the many reasons he sought to regain his friend’s favor. He did not appreciate the rock that formed in his stomach when LeFou gave that look to Stanley.

 

His friend protested far too much for Gaston to believe he did not impart his affection onto Stanley. Clearly, the younger man was clueless to LeFou’s affection, or was aware and deemed fit to ignore it for the sake of their friendship. Either way, Gaston couldn’t help but think LeFou deserved better. 

 

While that would be difficult considering society’s views on such relationships, he never really understood why. If it did not directly affect you, why would that aspect of someone’s personal life have any merit? Gaston never really thought much of the vice, but then, he wasn’t really interested in that which did not affect him directly. Although now, he supposed, it did. 

 

Suspecting LeFou suffered the vice was one thing, to learn and find the assumption was correct was entirely another. It did not change his opinion of his friend. In fact, he had hoped such a revelation would be the key to repairing their strained friendship. Gaston had been wrong, and while he could admit it now, it did not mean he liked the feeling of it.

 

As he finally approached the gates of the castle, Gaston let out a sigh. Attaining the forgiveness of Belle and Maurice was essential and his pride would have to take another beating. But his death, having touched the fabric of the veil… Gaston had finally come to the understanding that there was so much more out there than his mere existence. Death can make even the most self-important man humble.

 

Gaston tied Hercules up next to Felipe and ascended the stairs. As he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment before taking to knocking. When the door swept open, a man around his own age, adorned in extravagant clothing, golden hair swept back, regarded him with a quirked brow. “Come to exact your revenge?”

 

His tone had been so cavalier, Gaston was almost surprised. He shook his head. “The opposite. I have come to speak with Belle and Maurice. I only need a moment of their time.”

 

A younger woman dressed in a stylish white smock, evidently a maid, approached. “Lumiere?”

 

“Not now, Plumette,” he whispered as he waved her off. Lumiere returned his attention to Gaston and shook his head. “I suggest you leave, sir.”

 

Releasing a strained sigh, Gaston pleaded, which was not something he was inclined to do, “Just a moment of their time. I will remain outside and wait if they’re agreeable.”

 

Lumiere stared at him for a moment before finally giving him a curt nod and closing the door.

 

Gaston wondered how long would be appropriate to wait. He took a seat at the bench and decided the least he could do was wait until the sun was beginning to set. It would likely start to set within the hour.

 

Surprisingly, his wait was minimal. Likely ten minutes. The door opened again and he moved to stand. Belle came charging forward, an ostentatious candlestick in her hand, at the ready to attack. “What are you doing here? How are you alive?” she demanded.

 

He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Belle, I have come to speak with you and Maurice. I mean you no harm.”

 

Maurice followed behind, placing a placating hand upon her shoulder. He looked up at Gaston, brow quirked in disdain. He supposed he deserved such a look. “What do you wish to say?”

 

Gaston looked from Belle, to Maurice, before letting out a deep exhale. “I wish to apologize for my behavior.”

 

The father and daughter exchanged bemused looks before narrowing their eyes at Gaston in harmony. Belle scoffed. “What game are you playing, Gaston?”

 

“Look,” he began, keeping his hands up in a placating gesture. “The witch who enchanted this castle is the one who resurrected me from the veil. I have less than a fortnight to complete a task, else I be returned. I cannot accomplish this task without the aid of LeFou and he has made it clear that our friendship will not be repaired until I attempt to rectify my actions.” Gaston let out another sigh and folded his arms in defiance. “The night I died, I wronged you both for my own selfish reasons. And while I don’t give a damn about the rest of the villagers, my mistreatment of you... of  _ both  _ of you, does plague me. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I appreciate you allowing me to say my peace.”

 

The expression on both of their faces was unsure. Belle lowered the candlestick as she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

 

Gaston nodded. “I stirred our village into a frenzy because of a rejection that assaulted my ego. While it’s not much of an excuse, it’s my only reasoning for it. And yes, I’m sure my regret stems from the fact that I  _ did  _ die, I hope I would still feel this way had that not been the outcome.”

 

Maurice stepped in front of Belle and shook his head. “If this is some sort of ploy to gain our trust…”

 

“Maurice,” he interrupted. “I assure you. No ploy other than returning to LeFou and informing him I apologized. Nothing more. In fact, you’ll never hear from me again. I merely wish to regain my friend’s favor and I’m hoping having come here will do that.”

 

Belle turned to Maurice and handed him the candlestick. “Would you give us a moment, Papa?”

 

“Belle…” he started to argue before she waved him off.

 

“Please.”

 

With a reticent nod, the older man departed with a suspicious glance in Gaston’s direction. Belle then returned her attention to Gaston. “I’ll be honest, I’m uncertain whether I’m inclined to believe you. You’ve never appeared to be all that caring for anyone other than yourself.”

 

Gaston regarded her for a moment, before letting out a regretful sigh. “LeFou has been the exception. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been as consistent as it should have been.”

 

That appeared to take Belle aback. She moved to sit on the bench beside him, waving for him to sit beside her. “What is this task you’ve been given?”

 

Taking the offer, he shrugged noncommittally. “Apparently I have managed to gain the genuine love of a woman in our village. I have the next twelve days to find her, return her affection, else I shall die. Again.” Belle was the second person he had confided his situation. It was getting easier to discuss.

 

Belle hummed in acknowledgement. After a moment of apparent contemplation, she drew away from him. “You don’t assume it’s me and this is all an attempt to gain my favor?”

 

Gaston barked out a laugh. “No. Though I suppose I would understand why you’d think as such. No. It’s a woman who already loves me. The enchantress informed me that I must learn to love the person for whom loves me above all others.”

 

“Person?” Belle asked.

 

He quirked his brow at her, unsure why she was stuck on that particular point of his revelation. “Yes?”

 

“So, she didn’t say  _ woman…” _

 

Gaston narrowed his eyes at her, completely bewildered by the direction she was taking their discussion. “I’m not sure why that matters, but if you wish to get technical, then no. She said person.”

 

Belle quirked her lips and tapped her chin, before turning to address Gaston full-on. “What makes you think it’s a woman?”

 

He scoffed at her impertinence. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

“Gaston…” she urged as she folded her hands in her lap. With a long-suffering sigh, Belle continued, “How long have you and I known each other?”

 

It was a bizarre turn for the conversation. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, unsure what she was attempting to imply. “Most of our lives, for certain.”

 

“Precisely. And over the course of those years, while you’ve been known to filander with a few of the maidens in the village, you had never been pressed to marry, nor did you ever seem inclined towards it until you returned from the war. You’d always been content in your bachelorhood.”

 

“I don’t see –”

 

Belle held her hand up to halt him. “Please. If you permitted me to speak, you’d understand where I was going with this. As long as I can recall, it was always you and LeFou. In fact, didn’t he enlist for you?”

 

Gaston shook his head. “Of course not. He enlisted for his country.”

 

She let out another sigh. “Did he show any interest in being a soldier prior to your inclination?”

 

Now that he thought about it, no. LeFou had often spoke of becoming a farrier due to his love for animals. He had even wished to learn to read, to pursue said career outside of Villeneuve, perhaps even in a large city such as Paris. And when they both approached their eighteenth years, Gaston had expressed a desire to become a soldier. When LeFou had excitedly agreed to enlist with him, Gaston had never questioned the reasoning behind the change of heart. 

 

“No,” Gaston answered carefully.

 

“Don’t you find it interesting?”

 

“Belle, I implore you. Be candid.”

 

Belle nodded and let out a soft sigh. “Is it possible that the person implicated in the spell is  _ not _ a woman?”

 

That took Gaston aback. He’d never considered such a prospect. Perhaps the love Agathe spoke of was more of a fraternal affection as opposed to the romantic love he assumed. But if that were the case, surely the curse would have already resolved itself. Despite the strain on their friendship at the present juncture, LeFou was the most important person in his life and always had been. 

 

Gaston regarded her for a moment. “Are you suggesting that LeFou has a romantic attachment to me?”

 

“I cannot say for certain, I’m not able to speak for him. But what would that mean for you if the person in question were male?” she replied with a kind and serene expression on her face. As though she weren’t implying the vice so off-handedly. As though it were commonplace to think such things.

 

“Even if that were the case, say the curse does not discriminate toward gender. What makes you think I could return the affection of a man?” he challenged, not entirely sure why the idea didn’t anger him as much as it should, if what she was implying were sound.

 

“Have you thought about it? That you could possibly suffer the vice?” she countered with a challenging eyebrow. 

 

“Of course not!” While his refusal was an innate response, he couldn’t help but contemplate her words. 

 

Belle moved to stand. “Gaston. Second chances are a rare and beautiful thing. You have to challenge yourself and what you’ve come to terms with in your life in order to grow and learn from them.”

 

“It’s wrong, Belle,” he returned with a wistful sigh. While he couldn’t care less about what happens between a person and their God, it wasn’t as though society as a whole shared his view.

 

She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “I fell in love with a Beast and it saved him. If love cannot discriminate, why should the rest of us?” Belle stepped away and nodded to him. “I do hope you break the curse.”

 

Gaston nodded dumbly, feeling as though the rug had been ripped from beneath him. He moved to stand and bowed to her in respect. “Thank you, Belle.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

* * *

 

Gaston had spent the horse ride back to the village in serious contemplation. The mere idea of having an emotional and physical attraction to another man seemed almost laughable. But then, as he recalled aspects of his life, the occasional moments he found himself irretrievably drawn to the male form…

 

He had always presumed those moments stemmed from admiration, perhaps even a sense of jealousy. Gaston was most absolutely attracted to the female form. But, a treacherous voice in the back of his head interjected, if he thought about it, there had been a moment or two in his life in which he felt similarly for a man.

 

In fact, when he and LeFou were adolescents and stumbled upon that molly house, he had not been as unaffected by the sight of two men in the throes of passion as he likely should have. For LeFou’s benefit, he had shrugged it off. But Gaston felt a strange and bizarre warmth envelop him from the inside out. And as that night had progressed the more and more intoxicated the two of them became, he felt more and more drawn to his friend.

 

Gaston had brushed it off as simply too much alcohol, causing him a temporary insanity. He was young, virile, and affected by the drink. And LeFou was warm and welcoming. Gaston tried to forget that night often, but as it began to seep into his memories once more, objectively he was able to see that perhaps his affection towards LeFou that night could have been construed as less than platonic.

 

Honestly, had LeFou not immediately passed out the moment they reached their room, Gaston could not honestly say he wouldn’t have tried something. At the time he blamed the drink. He blamed his own damnable curiosity. But now as he faced a certain potentially fatal precipice, it wasn’t something he could so easily dismiss.

 

Was it possible that the man for whom LeFou had affection for were himself? Was that why he refused to give Gaston any details? But then, if that were true, why was he so seemingly enamored with Stanley. Gaston shook himself of those thoughts. Perhaps Belle’s intent had been to confuse him to such an extent he suffer an existential crisis?

 

That wasn’t like the young woman, but whether it was intended or not, he feared that it were coming to fruition. Gaston let out an annoyed huff and dismounted Hercules when he reached the stable of LeFou’s family. The sun had just finished setting, so he grabbed a lantern as he guided the horse to the empty pen. 

 

Rewarding his trusty steed with a couple of sugar cubes, he smiled at the creature and stroked a hand through his mane. “Good boy.”

 

Gaston looked up at the house. He could see the light of the fire through the backdoor window as it lit up the house. LeFou was home. For some inexplicable reason, he felt the urge to inform him he’d done what he asked. He was more than ready to mend the broken bridge between them.

 

Carefully treading up through the back garden, he reached the back stable door. He had been ready to just let himself in, like he’d done several times over in the past, but a movement caught his eye. Gaston narrowed his eyes and when his vision finally focussed he felt frozen in place. 

 

LeFou was home. He was home with  _ Stanley.  _ Stanley, who was presently sprawled out on the settee, eyes screwed shut, lips parted, a faint flush creeping up his neck. LeFou’s head was in the man’s lap, moving in a familiar, yet entirely unfamiliar, bobbing motion. He wanted nothing more than to turn away, but felt inexplicably drawn to watching the scene before him.

 

Tugging at the collar of his shirt, Gaston felt incredibly warm. He’d never seen such an explicit act between two men so close before. Especially not when one of the persons was his oldest and dearest compatriot. This was an incredible invasion of privacy, yet he found himself unable to look away. There was suddenly a frantic motion from Stanley, tapping at LeFou’s shoulder, before his head lolled back against the settee.

 

A moment later, LeFou arose, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, before Stanley drew him in for a kiss.

 

At that point, Gaston turned away, no longer able to bear it. He stormed back through the garden and around the house, accidentally knocking over a bucket of feed in his haste to leave. His pace was quick and determined as he made his way through town back to the lodge. His stomach churned in an angry and violent manner. A serious knot appeared to have formed, causing his internal organs to clench in displeasure and he couldn’t fathom why. He’d met homosexual men in the past, he’d seen such acts, granted not up close. Why was he having such a visceral physical response, now?

 

Belle’s words echoed in his head:  _ Have you thought about it? That you could possibly suffer the vice? _

 

Gaston waved off his treacherous thoughts in Belle’s soft soprano. It was laughable, that a man such as himself could ever suffer the vice of the English. His reaction to what he saw was merely an ingrained prejudice, that must have been it. For he did not wish harm come to LeFou, he was not disgusted with LeFou. Yet… An unfathomable rage began to boil within at the thought of Stanley. Perhaps he had taken advantage of his friend and Gaston had all but abandoned him! To be violated by that predator!

 

Just as he steeled himself to turn back and save LeFou, the image of his friend smiling, leaning in to kiss Stanley filled his mindseye and Gaston halted all movement. LeFou was not being violated. Instead of filling Gaston with relief, he swallowed dryly against a lump in his throat. His assumptions had been correct, that LeFou had feelings for Stanley.

 

Instead of finding himself happy for his friend, for finally getting what he wanted, Gaston felt sick. Angry and sick. With a huff of aggravation, he began his trek back to the lodge. When he reached the tavern, his visage must have appeared rather pathetic, for the barkeep offered him a bottle of whiskey free of charge. 

 

Gaston grumbled a half hearted thank you for the alcohol and hauled himself up to his room. As he plopped himself down on the mattress of his single bed, he took a long draught straight from the bottle, enjoying the way it burned on its way down. When his mind returned to the private moment between LeFou and Stanley, he groaned and took another drink. 

 

LeFou, his cherubic cheeks flushed from the strain of Stanley’s length having been swallowed down. From the heat of their intimacy. Eyes alight with lust and affection. The implications of what he’d done, bringing the younger man to completion with his mouth alone… Gaston repressed the urge to shudder.

 

When Gaston found his sex growing hard over the imagery he was conjuring, he sat bolt upright. Shaking his head physically, as though those thoughts would fall from his brain, Gaston gripped the bottle and took a few gulps of the burning liquid. He palmed his erection to force the appendage to return to its previous state. 

 

As his erection slowly began to soften, Gaston let out a sigh of relief. Clearly he needed to drink himself into a stupor to quell his body’s bizarre reactions. Sleep couldn’t come quickly enough.

 

* * *

 

LeFou withdrew from Stanley’s lips when he thought he heard movement from outside. “Did you hear that?”

 

Stanley sat up, still a little dazed from the sexual act he had just performed on him. The younger man shook his head, glancing around, before he answered with a soft, “It was likely the wind.” He cupped LeFou’s face and smiled, looking at him as though he hung the stars.

 

The heat in his own cheeks likely reddened his face. LeFou ducked his head and returned the smile. “Perhaps we should retire to my room?”

 

That was met with a nod of affirmation and appreciation. LeFou moved to stand and Stanley quickly followed, halting him by the wrist before he ascended the stairs. With far more assured movements than he’d demonstrated earlier, Stanley caressed the side of LeFou’s neck before capturing his lips in another kiss. 

 

LeFou tangled his hands in the long, unclasped locks of his lover, groaning into the kiss. Stanley’s lips were soft and insistent, the sort of eagerness accompanied by his youth and lack of experience. Not that LeFou had kissed that many men. There was one man, during the war. But that had been so many years ago. 

 

They continued to press chaste, yet hungry kisses to each other’s lips as they made their way to LeFou’s room. Stanley closed the door behind himself with his foot, never once breaking contact with LeFou. In that moment, the reality of what they were about to do must have occurred to his young friend, who shuffled his feet in nervousness. 

 

Grasping his shoulder, LeFou gave him a comforting smile. “If you aren’t ready for more, I’m content to just share your company, Stanley.”

 

The younger man nodded, shoulders slumping downwards in his relief. 

 

LeFou smiled and started to undress. He kept his undergarments on, but did not change into his sleep clothes. He crawled into his bed and leaned up against the headboard, watching Stanley wage a war within himself. After a beat, his friend divested himself of his attire and moved to lay down next to LeFou. 

 

“I’ve never…” he confessed quietly.

 

With an understanding nod of his head, LeFou leaned over and placed his hand over Stanley’s own. “Would it make you feel better to know I haven’t either?”

 

Stanley’s eyes widened in apparent surprise. “But you seem so confident. And what happened downstairs…”

 

LeFou chuckled. “Gaston is a braggart. He constantly divulged all of the details of his trysts and always mentioned his fondness for a woman who appreciated performing such an act. I took the chance.”

 

“I was your first?”

 

He nodded, feeling particularly vulnerable in that moment. Having never dreamed of taking an active participation in the vice, LeFou had surprised even himself with his readiness to perform such an act. “I hope it was alright.”

 

Stanley let out an incredulous sounding snort as he pulled LeFou closer to him. “LeFou, you’re the best.”

 

LeFou ducked his head in embarrassment as a painful tug at his heart threatened to ruin his contentment. The last time those words had been spoken in his direction, they had come from Gaston. A compliment derived from a much different context, but that did not mean he hadn’t wished for a similar circumstance between himself and his oldest friend. 

 

It had been quite the ordeal, coming to the realization that what he felt for his best friend was not what men usually felt for each other. Gaston’s physique was enviable, Gods carved of stone in Rome were not as perfect as the man who had been his first real friend. But it wasn’t his appearance that LeFou was entranced by. It helped, but he had found himself bewitched by his friend in every way. His humor, his smile, the soft and vulnerable side of himself that only LeFou was gifted with witnessing.

 

What a cruel joke. To not only suffer the vice, but to be irretrievably in love with a man who would never,  _ could  _ never reciprocate his feelings. LeFou looked at Stanley then, feeling marginally guilty for allowing his thoughts to drift to Gaston yet again. The young man presently in his embrace was handsome, caring, kind, and actually could reciprocate any feelings, if they decided to pursue whatever was happening between them.

 

LeFou sighed and curled against Stanley’s chest, bracing his arm over the younger man’s stomach, his eyelids drooping from the weight of his exhaustion. “Stay?” was all he asked.

 

Stanley hummed in the affirmative. The gentle caress of Stanley’s fingers on his arm was soothing, curving LeFou’s lips upward in a contented smile. Yet, while he succumbed to such a physical comfort, it was Gaston that occupied his thoughts before sleep finally overtook.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's been over a year since the last update. I'll be honest, I've been completely ensnared by multiple other works with my writing partner, so my writing on this fic has been slow going due to my squeezing it in when I could. But I AM working on it, this has not and will not be abandoned. I did promise I would upload all of it in one go when I finished, but since that is taking longer than I anticipated, I am going to continue to upload each chapter as I finish it. Chapter 6 is almost finished and the remainder of the fic is outlined and plotted out. If you haven't given up on this fic, I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3<3

**Chapter 5**

 

Stanley had stayed the entire night. When LeFou had awoken that following morning, the younger man was still asleep. He smiled down at his lover’s peaceful visage and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Feeling quite awake, LeFou got up and dressed to start his chores for the morning. If the hens had laid a few eggs, he could prepare a nice, hot breakfast.

 

LeFou cast another smile in Stanley’s direction before ducking through his door and down the stairs again. It was surprising how invigorated he felt that morning. It was his first restful night’s sleep in quite some time. He wondered if it had anything to do with sharing his bed with someone.

 

As he tended to the animals, he was distracted from his recollecting thoughts by the clapping of hooves on the cobblestone road leading to his family’s home. LeFou looked up and was taken aback by the mounted coachman approaching. An unremarkable fellow  –  with dark brown hair pulled back in a tidy clasp  –  sat upon an Irish black no more than four years of age from the angle and coloring of his teeth.

 

“Monsieur LeFou?” the man asked as he sidled his steed along the fence of his property. 

 

LeFou wiped his hands off on the rag he had slung over his shoulder and smiled. “How can I help you?”

 

The man pulled out an envelope and held it out for him to take. “Her Royal Highness has a message for you.”

 

With a nod of acceptance, LeFou took the letter and thanked the coachman before feeding the horse a sugar cube from his pocket. As the man rode off, he stared down at the letter with a furrowed brow. His literacy was paltry at best. Gaston had made promises over the years to teach him to read, but time had always escaped them.

 

After finishing up his chores and grabbing a couple of fresh eggs from the coop, LeFou was surprised to find Stanley waiting for him in the kitchen, preparing the kettle for the hearth. LeFou smiled fondly at the younger man. “Good morning.”

 

Stanley whipped around in surprise, his surprised expression quickly becoming one of contentment as he realized just who had greeted him. “LeFou. I had hoped to surprise you with a hot coffee.”

 

LeFou chuckled as he closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to Stanley’s cheek. “I’m afraid I don’t have any coffee. It’s rather expensive.”

 

Stanley ducked his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck as heat colored his cheeks. “I, uh… I brought you some.”

 

“You did?” LeFou asked, the surprise entirely evident in his tone.

 

That was simply met with a nod as he proceeded to prepare LeFou’s kettle for the rarity. He had only tried coffee a handful of times in his life. He was rather excited to try it again in the comfort of his own home. While Stanley focused his attention on the kettle, LeFou went about preparing them a hot breakfast to accompany their coffee. The letter from Belle temporarily forgotten and abandoned on the table in the kitchen as he focused his attention on the cast iron stove. 

 

“What’s this?” Stanley asked, prompting LeFou to turn and face him. He was smiling and holding up the envelope.

 

LeFou shrugged as he returned to his cooking. “Belle sent me a letter. I’ll have to wait to read it until Gaston visits.”

 

“Why?”

 

When he turned back to face Stanley, the heat rising to his cheeks was slightly disorienting. His lack of literacy had never been a point of humiliation before, but now… in the presence of a man he had developed affection for, it was rather stifling. “I am not very good at reading.”

 

The smile that curled Stanley’s lips was entirely encouraging and sweet. “I’d be happy to read it to you.”

 

LeFou smiled and nodded. “That would be very kind of you.”

 

He continued to finish preparing breakfast as he listened to Stanley open the letter. The sound of paper rustling and a throat being cleared preceded the words of Belle’s letter:

 

_ “Monsieur LeFou,  _

 

_ It was brought to my attention that Gaston has been given a task to accomplish and he informed me that he could only accomplish this task when he has received your forgiveness. It was also made clear that he needed to apologize to me and my father in order to gain your forgiveness. In case there’s a part of you that would be hesitant to believe him if he told you he had apologized to me, let me confirm for you that he has. I do not wish harm against Gaston, despite the harm he attempted on myself and those I care about. You are the only one who can keep him human, so if he succeeds in his task, he will need you in his life. Good luck and take care of yourself. _

 

_ Sincerely yours, _

 

_ Belle.” _

 

LeFou had frozen, his hand hovered over the baguette he had started cutting up. The warmth that filled him in that moment slowly constricted his lungs. Breath caught in his throat as he soaked in the words. Gaston had done it. He’d asked for their forgiveness and what was more, he did it because he wished for LeFou’s forgiveness. 

 

While the fact that Gaston’s apology likely held less meaning  –  knowing it was in order for Gaston to gain something in return  –  the realization that he had done it simply for LeFou’s forgiveness… LeFou was unable to hide the smile that news brought to his face. And the fact that Gaston did not come to brag immediately after he had done so was another surprising revelation that morning.

 

He had been so immersed in his spinning thoughts that he did not hear Stanley’s comment. LeFou shook his head and focused on the younger man, who had a relatively saddened expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Stanley. I’m listening now.”

 

Stanley stood up and quickly closed the distance between them, causing LeFou’s breath to catch in his throat. Without any preamble, Stanley cupped his face and drew him in for a lingering kiss, one that left him pleasantly warm. But when Stanley drew back, his expression was even sadder.

 

LeFou furrowed his brow in concern, shaking his head in bemusement. “Are you alright?”

 

Stanley forced a small smile and nodded. “I am, LeFou. But… I believe it might be best if you and I return to being friends.”

 

“What? Why?” LeFou stepped back, shaking his head in further confusion. 

 

There was a sure and strong hand on his shoulder, stilling his movement. Stanley smiled down at him, eyes kind and assured. “If I’m to take a risk, to succumb to the vice, I believe it’s best that I should take the risk with someone for whom loves me and me alone.”

 

His brow furrowed even deeper from the sheer confusion he felt. “I don’t understand.”

 

Stanley chuckled, there was no malice or aggression behind it. “The way you just smiled when I read the letter, that smile was for him.”

 

LeFou stared at Stanley for a moment, feeling as though he’d received a punch to the stomach. “It was,” he confessed, a shudder of relief coursing through him.

 

That was met with a soft chuckle and a gentle hand cupping his right cheek. “It’s alright, LeFou. I’m more than happy to be your friend.”

 

He grasped Stanley’s wrist and nodded against his palm. “Me, too.”

 

Stanley finally released him, taking a step back as he grabbed his overcoat. “I do believe it would be best if I took my leave though.”

 

LeFou nodded his understanding, flashing him a sad smile. “For what it’s worth, you were the first man to make me feel hope in a long time.”

 

The beat of silence between them was heart clenching, almost making LeFou externally wince from his internal emotions. Stanley nodded and visibly swallowed. “Thank you for saying that. I guess I’ll see you around the village?”

 

“Sooner than that I hope,” LeFou returned with a smile. 

 

Stanley returned the smile, ever so faintly, and departed without another word. LeFou let out an almost hysterical bark of laughter, but he swallowed it down and took the pot off of the hearth. He shook his head at himself. For the simple fact that as a kind, wonderful, and loving man had just walked out of his door, all he could think of was Gaston’s small act.  

 

The warmth he felt was so utterly invigorating. LeFou knew he would eventually need to divest himself of these inappropriate feelings, because ultimately, Gaston was nothing but a self absorbed brute who used him as a human shield before leaving him to be crushed. And hopefully, when the day came that he was no longer sparing any affection to Gaston, perhaps Stanley would be willing to give him another chance.

 

But seeing as today wasn’t that day; in that moment, he allowed himself to feel that damnable hope again.

 

* * *

 

When Gaston had awoken the following morning, his mouth was dry  –  as though he had slept with cotton stuffed under his tongue  –  and his mind still caught in a fogged haze. His head throbbed in protest as he sat up too fast. He blindly reached for the jug of water on his nightstand and gulped down a third of it before gasping for air.

 

Perhaps LeFou would be able to aid in his memory of the previous night’s events. With a groggy sigh, Gaston leadenly made his way from his bed to his dresser. His movements were slug-like as he dressed himself for the day. When he made his way from his room and down into the tavern, he grunted a barely comprehensible growl of greeting to Marcel, his barkeep.

 

Marcel quirked his brow and nodded as he continued to clean out a stein with a worn out rag. Gaston waved him off and stumbled through the tavern into the far too bright day. Gaston braced his forearm in front of his brow and made his way through the town to LeFou’s home. It took far longer than he would have liked, but that was because a couple of townsfolk stopped him on his way. 

 

To be fair, it was Tom and Dick, but he didn’t have the patience for them. They were bombarding him with questions and he was in far too much pain for that level of cerebral exert. Gaston barked an annoyed, “I’ll speak with you later!” And finished the rest of his trek to LeFou’s home. As he reached the outer perimeter, a flash of color made him look up.

 

Just in time to see Stanley leaving LeFou’s home in the same clothes he had had on the day before. Suddenly the memory of what he’d witnessed the previous night flashed through his mind and his stomach lurched in protest. Gaston barely made it to the alley behind the church, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the dirty pavement beneath him. 

 

As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Gaston sighed and slumped against the wall, crouching to his knees as he tried to make sense of his violent reaction. The heat of his anger began a slow crawl up to his face, the thought of Stanley staying the night with LeFou. Which was bizarre in and of itself, considering he had never felt such a reaction when he’d encountered those sorts of men in the past. Hell, he and LeFou found themselves in a Molly House when they were younger and he had no qualms with the behavior then.

 

Gaston’s head throbbed from the exertion and mild hangover from the amount of the drink he had imbibed the night prior. He decided he was in too much pain and feeling far too angered to engage anyone in conversation. As he made his way back to his tavern, massaging his aching temples, his thoughts kept drifting back to having witnessed the intimacy that LeFou and Stanley had shared.

 

And the implication of Stanley’s departure the following morning. That was when an awful thought invaded his foggy brain. What if Stanley had taken advantage of LeFou? What if it hadn’t been reciprocal and Gaston was, yet again, abandoning his friend when he needed him most? 

 

Swallowing back the bile that was crawling up his esophagus, Gaston steeled himself and made the rest of the trek back to LeFou’s home. With no sign of Stanley in sight, he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After a beat of silence  –  in which he contemplated knocking again  –  the door opened and LeFou looked up at him in surprise.

 

“Gaston? What are you doing here?”

 

He waved him off and stepped inside without invitation, carefully closing the door. “I need to speak with you.”

 

LeFou’s brow was furrowed in concern, but he had a pleasant smile on his face. “Well, your timing couldn’t be better. Have you eaten? I just finished making breakfast.”

 

The thought of food caused him a fresh wave of nausea and Gaston shook his head. “I’m not hungry, but…” The smell of coffee momentarily distracted him. “Is that coffee?”

 

His younger friend’s smile grew exponentially. “Yes. Would you like some?”

 

Gaston nodded as he set himself down on the divan. “Perhaps that will settle my stomach.”

 

LeFou handed him a mug and sat beside him, gently bracing his hand on Gaston’s arm. “Are you feeling alright?”

 

“I drank too much last night,” he murmured before blowing on the hot liquid, taking an appreciative sip and already feeling its effects. Gaston took another sip and smiled at LeFou. “I always thought coffee was too much of an expense for your aunt and uncle.”

 

The chuckle that comment was met with was soft and appreciative. LeFou shook his head as he stood up to grab his own mug of the decadent drink. “Stanley brought it for me.”

 

Gaston managed to refrain from rolling his eyes as he sat more upright and faced LeFou, his serious expression causing the smile on his friend’s face to falter. He sighed and said, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

“What?” LeFou asked, shaking his head in obvious bemusement. 

 

“I… I saw Stanley leave your home this morning.”

 

LeFou shrugged. “And that’s a bad thing?”

 

Gaston fixed his friend with an unamused expression. “I know he stayed the night.”

 

The color in LeFou’s face instantly drained and he took a step back. “How –how do you know that?”

 

With a soft sigh he kept his gaze on the mug of coffee. “I stopped by to see you after returning Hercules to your stable. I had not intended on violating your privacy, but I came up the back path to your kitchen door and…” Gaston turned to look at LeFou, whose face was as red as his favorite coat in that moment. “Was Stanley taking advantage of you?” 

 

LeFou gasped and shook his head adamantly. “Of course not!”

 

_ Oh.  _ Gaston had been entirely mistaken in his assumptions and the level of comfort between the two men. So, what he had witnessed the night before  _ had  _ been mutual. And Gaston had just humiliated his friend for no apparent reason. “I see,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to think of a way to get his friend’s forgiveness for an even worse transgression.

 

“I… I didn’t think it bothered you,” LeFou said rather meekly.

 

Gaston furrowed his brow and shook his head. “It doesn’t… I thought… I was concerned for you.”

 

LeFou’s apparent humiliation seemed to dissipate as he fixed Gaston with a small smile. “I assure you, Gaston. He did nothing I didn’t invite.”

 

While that should have appeased him, should have quelled the murderous thoughts he had regarding Stanley and how he would punish him severely for hurting his friend, it did not. Now he was irate with Stanley for a completely different reason and Gaston was thoroughly confused as to what the reasoning behind that was.

 

“I’m sorry you witnessed such an act,” LeFou murmured as he rubbed the back of his neck and proceeded to rip off a piece of baguette, focusing his attention on that.

 

Gaston braced his arm on the backrest of the divan and looked at LeFou with a smile. “I would have thought you would be more upset I violated your privacy.”

 

LeFou rolled his eyes and moved to sit next to him. “We’ve seen each other in such precarious positions before, why would that embarrass me?”

 

Gaston chuckled and shrugged. “I’m just glad you aren’t yelling at me and kicking me out.”

 

That was met with a good hearted chuckle as LeFou bumped his shoulder into Gaston’s. “I can see you're not faring well this morning. I decided to give you a much needed break.”

 

“How chivalrous of you, LeFou,” he replied sardonically.

 

“Actually,” LeFou started as he placed his coffee on the table beside the divan, “I did want to talk to you.”

 

Gaston quirked his brow, his only response as he took another sip of the coffee. He could already feel the fog in his head start to clear. 

 

“I wanted to thank you.”

 

At that Gaston furrowed his brow and tilted his head in LeFou’s direction. “What for?”

 

LeFou smiled and patted Gaston’s knee. “I received a letter from Belle this morning, explaining that you apologized to her and Maurice, because it was the only way to regain my favor.”

 

Gaston was taken aback by that, not so much that Belle corroborated his actions, but that she took initiative to notify LeFou. He pursed his lips and shrugged again. “I told you I wish to repair our friendship and if that was what you needed me to do…”

 

The expression on LeFou’s face was hard to decipher at first, but the way his lips curled up in a small smile, Gaston couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief. 

 

“I am impressed you followed through with it.”

 

“Does that mean we can be friends again, however short a time frame I remain on this plane?”

 

That appeared to sober LeFou and he nodded. “Yes. And we should probably try to determine the identity of the woman who loves you.” 

 

Gaston nodded in agreement and sighed as he sank back against the divan. “I suppose just confessing my love to every woman in the village would not be the best way to go?”

 

LeFou snorted into his coffee and shook his head. “We’ve already established that is a terrible idea.” He mimicked Gaston’s movement and sank back against the divan before he met his gaze. Gaston had never realized the warm honey color of LeFou’s eyes before. 

 

“Then I guess I should… I don’t know…”

 

“Here,” LeFou said as he sat up and took his almost empty mug from his hands, “why don’t you head back to the tavern? I’ll finish up here and meet you. We can start working on a plan to narrow it down, okay?”

 

Gaston sat up and looked around. “Would you like my help?”

 

LeFou’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he gave him a bemused smile. “You really have changed, haven’t you?” His tone was teasing, but Gaston couldn’t help but wonder if there was a semblance of sincerity in his query.

 

“Amazing how dying can affect your view of the world,” he quipped with a half smile. 

 

LeFou flicked Gaston’s shoulder and nodded for him to get up. “Come on, get back to the tavern. I’ll be with you shortly.”

 

Gaston groaned as he moved to get up, smiling down at his friend with a fondness he worried he wouldn’t get back after his actions, but their entire interaction that morning had given him hope he feared he’d never feel again. “I’ll take your kicking me out as your hospitality and not because you wish to be rid of me, then.”

 

“Good,” LeFou said with a chuckle as he beamed up at Gaston. “Keep telling yourself that.”

 

The laugh that escaped was surprising. LeFou had always been funny and able to cheer Gaston up whenever he was feeling ill or poorly. But he’d never been so sardonic, especially in regards to Gaston’s character traits before. He found he liked this side of LeFou. “I’ll see you shortly,” he responded with an arched brow as he made his way to the door.

 

Instead of seeing him to the door, like LeFou always did, he simply smiled and nodded as he proceeded to clean up the dishes. “Do try to not profess your love to any bystanding women on your way home.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” he said with a chuckle as he slipped out of the front door of LeFou’s family home. The smile on Gaston’s face was genuine and the relief he felt was palpable. It was fascinating how easily these contented emotions filled him in the presence of his friend.

 

Gaston made his way back to the tavern with an almost skip in his step, the hope he felt bringing a joy to him he hadn’t felt since before the entire mess with Belle and the beast had started. With LeFou’s help, he should hopefully identify the mysterious woman’s identity and then they could begin the process of training Gaston in all of the ways of falling in love. With any luck, the curse would be lifted within the week.

 

* * *

 

The morning of revelations would have likely made most men dizzy with bemusement, but LeFou felt rather light. While he still hadn’t entirely forgiven Gaston his transgressions, his friend was valiantly doing what he could to seek his forgiveness and it filled him with a warmth he hadn’t felt since they were adolescents. And if he was honest, he was rather touched by Gaston’s concern for his well being after what he witnessed the night before between Stanley and himself. 

 

While there was minimal humiliation over the thought of Gaston perhaps having witnessed the extent of their closeness, he had seen Gaston in far more outrageous positions that it was likely quite fair. But still, if his friend wasn’t as nonchalant regarding the vice itself, LeFou knew he would feel far more anxious about the entire situation.

 

LeFou happily cleaned up his kitchen and got properly dressed for the day. Again, the reality of what he was aiding his friend with was daunting and only mildly heart wrenching, but after years of unrequited affection, he wasn’t all the surprised. And if he was able to keep Gaston alive, he found he was still happy to do such a thing for his friend. No matter the personal pain it caused. 

 

The streets were bizarrely quiet as he made his way through town to the tavern. Usually there was a bustle of different folk, exchanging goods and having conversations. The streets were eerily clear and calm, which put LeFou on edge. 

 

When he arrived to the tavern, he had discovered why. All of the townspeople were inside the tavern, a large mob surrounding someone who had been cornered at the end of the bar nearing the personnel stairwell. LeFou pushed himself through the crowd, trying to make sense of all of the different conversations being had at once, until he realized whom the target of this particular mob was.

 

Gaston was braced against the wall, hands up in surrender as he tried to explain himself. 

 

Without hesitating, LeFou pushed through and took a protective stance in front of his friend, trying to make sense of what was happening. “What’s this about?” he demanded. 

 

Gaston gently grasped his arm and shook his head. “LeFou, it’s alright.”

 

“Like hell it is!” Phillippe, the bread maker, proclaimed. Murmurings of agreement erupted from several other persons in the tavern. 

 

“Can I please be clued in to what’s going on?”

 

It was Gaston who answered, “They believe I should be punished for leading the mob to the castle.”

 

Several people echoed their agreement and LeFou fixed them all with incredulous expressions. “You must be joking! With the exception of  Père  Robert, all of you had agreed with Gaston and chose to storm that castle!”

 

“But –” the fishmonger, Cecil, had tried to interject and LeFou waved him off.

 

“None of you are innocent in what occurred that night. None of you can stand here and claim he deserves to face punishment, because if he had blackmailed or threatened you all to follow him, which we all know was  _ not  _ the case, then you might be able to make such claims. But none of you questioned him, none of you tried to stop him. As far as I’m concerned, we are all guilty!” LeFou was breathing heavy by the time he finished his tirade. 

 

The mob of persons all had the gall to look chagrined in that moment. LeFou turned to Gaston, who was smiling at him in a way he’d never seen before. It caused a warmth he hadn’t felt in Gaston’s presence in quite some time to flood his body. LeFou ducked his gaze and returned his attention to the mob. “Might I suggest you all disperse and maybe contemplate your own actions before you try to impart punishment on anyone.”

 

The murmurs were discontented, but also a reluctant agreement as the crowd began to disperse, people still talking amongst themselves as they finally took their leave from the tavern. 

 

LeFou shook his head in amazement and when he looked back at Gaston, the man had a smirk on his face. “What?” LeFou asked, entirely confused by his friend’s response.

 

Gaston chuckled and clapped his hand on LeFou’s shoulder. “My hero.”

 

The heat from earlier climbed up his face and he was almost certain his cheeks were as red as the beets growing in his aunt’s garden. LeFou shook his head and pointed to a table in the corner of the tavern. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”


End file.
